Dexter in Darkness
by CorvidCoccinelle
Summary: So, I was unhappy at how Lumen left and I want her back. This is how I envision Season 6 starting...
1. Chapter 1

I wake before the alarm as the sunlight filters through the blinds of my room, slicing the bed and my body into thin slivers. My eyes open and I feel nothing. Again. I look at the white ceiling, the usual cracks, the spider's web I never bothered to move, why should I disturb another predator's home? Mine has been disturbed enough for both of us.

I don't look at the empty side of the bed. It's a conscious decision, like the same one I made yesterday and the day before. For the last three weeks since Harrison's birthday, since Lumen left. I try again to be happy for her, to wish her well in her life without the Darkness but it feels like a lie. When my mind begins the inevitable replay of events, the burgeoning of emotion in me for this broken, strong woman, the brief happiness, the devastation of her leaving, then I get up. It's bad enough that the universe seems to conspire against me without my own brain joining in.

Like an automaton, switching off my thoughts, I shave, brush my teeth, floss and get dressed. In the living room Cody and Astor curl up on their makeshift beds, Harrison is awake, standing in his cot and grinning at me. I look at them all, my family, the people I am left with after the tornado which has battered my life. We are all survivors here.

As quietly as I can I cut the oranges and squeeze the juice. I can't make coffee without waking the kids; we're going to have to rethink this living arrangement. All my life is about finding space for people, having too much space, having too little. I'm thinking too much.

"Dex," it's Harry, leaning on the counter top, looking concerned. "Dex, I'm worried about you. You need to get motivated, occupy yourself." Is my dead cop, stepfather really advising I kill someone? I look at him sideways as I drink my juice.

"Thanks for the suggestion. Are you going to baby sit for me while I 'occupy' myself?" I raise an eyebrow, he purses his lips.

"You can't let your situation interfere with your piece of mind Dexter. How long is it since you felt ok?" I look into my juice. The red and vermillion liquid frothy in the glass. I watch a piece of mangled orange slide into the bottom of the glass. I know how long. I know exactly how long but I'm not going to say it. My brain went down that route as soon as he said 'motivation'. Jordan Chase's favourite word. And suddenly I see it all again.

Lumen's face, angry as she grabs his cheeks and shouts at him, her arm slashing back and the thud of the knife going into his chest. The look on his face, on her face. I close my eyes. Stop it, I tell myself. But it's too late. My mind reels the film on, Deb's voice through the plastic sheeting, the gun shot, the running away, the bags on the boat, the morning after. I close my eyes tightly, the blood pounds in my eyelids. Harrison cries.

I whisper to him something soothing as I step over Cody and Astor's sleeping bodes and pick him up. As I carry him into the bedroom to change his diaper I hear the other two waking up. At least now I can have coffee.

Sonja arrives and I head off to work. The drive which used to bring me some peace before the blood and gore of my job does nothing to soothe me today. Other drivers irritate me, seeming to do so deliberately as thought here's been some announcement on the news. 'Annoy Dexter Morgan day'. I sigh as another cyclist swerves in front of me. One day I'll just mow one of the spandex suited idiots down.

My attempt to get to my desk without being spotted is thwarted by Deb, of course it is.

"Hey!" she says chirpily, sauntering over with two cardboard cups of coffee. She hands one to me and answers my frown. "Astor texted that you were on your way so I got two." Great now the independent satellites of my fragmented family are communicating. I wonder briefly what they say about me.

"Anything interesting?" I nod my head to the briefing room where LaGuerta is talking at length to the team, her hands gesture fluently telling them all that this is important, they'd better crack this case soon. The usual talk, pressure from the Chief, the press, the people of Miami. Debs looks in the direction I indicate.

"Oh, that. Right. Yeah some cocksucker's offing little girls downtown. Bastard's done four already." She shakes her head; I know sometimes the job appals her. It's why she's such a good cop, she uses that caring as her motivation. That word again. It's like a theme for the day, what is this? Sesame Street?

"I haven't been called to the crime scene?" I frown. She drinks her coffee.

"No, well, Masuka took the last two, you were busy and we've only just linked the other two murders to the same guy." I nod, slightly worried that they're asking Masuka over me. "Anyway Dex," she touches my arm, "you needed a break from death." I don't look at her because this is one of those moments where I don't know what she's saying. Is she talking about Lumen leaving? Her perception of my mood since my mysterious 'tenant' vanished? Or is she referring to what she thinks she knows about me? My part in the murder of the Barrel Girls Boys?

Quinn bangs on the window of the briefing room and impatiently waves us in. I follow Deb, taking a deep sigh as I do, maybe some brainwork will distract me from this lethargy, maybe Harry is right, I need distraction.

Masuka really enjoys being the lead blood guy on this case. He doesn't exclude me exactly but he mentions a couple of procedures which I invented but he doesn't bother to say where he learnt them. I don't care. I've already started to think of how I can find a new distraction.

Masuka flashes up the crime scene photos. Small bodies crumpled in the same way, discarded by a greedy monster. I feel my Dark Passenger wake up. The death of children pokes it in its cave.

I'm mentally searching the area in which the bodies were found, trying to remember if there's a likely place for the killer to live when Deb brings up a map of the area on the board. Using a whiteboard pen she starts to draw lines on the board, triangulating the crime scenes and thinking aloud about where the perpetrator might be staying. Sometimes she's too damned sharp. I can't be chasing my own department again; I have to find my own person to hunt. What I need is a missing persons case that ended badly. Someone they're not looking for any more.

I'm leaning at the back, against the glass, arms folded in the way I like to stand in briefing. In front of me is a female officer I have not seen before. Her long blonde hair is catching the bright Miami sunshine and I watch the gold and silver glitter in the window's beam. My chest feels tight; Deb's voice fades away as the woman in front of me becomes a ghost. A ghost who makes the room suddenly claustrophobic. She is my mother, she is Rita, she is Lumen. I start to cough. Deb looks up confused and Masuka turns to me, his face concerned.

"You ok dude?" he whispers. I nod, still coughing, feeling my gorge rise. I leave the room.

Back behind my desk, secure in the gloom from the black closed blinds I can breathe again. I need to do something about this now. The neat compartments of my history have started to bleed into each other. The phone rings.

"Dexter Morgan."

"Hi, look, I know this is unorthodox but well, our bloody guy's sick and Vince said you weren't busy." He did? I look up and prise open the blinds with my fingers; Masuka is in full flow, loving the audience. Has he got designs on my job?

"And?" I try not to sound abrupt but I know that I don't succeed; the guy on the phone doesn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, right, well. We've got this missing person case, woman, twenty seven, missing from her apartment for two weeks. We need someone to process the scene. I know it's not really your thing but…" The guy's voice tails off. I fill in his blanks. Missing person? Is the universe listening to dear old Dex again?

"The address?" He reels off some place in the suburbs and i scribble it onto the notepad. I open the blinds and scan the office floor. Quinn is making his way over but he sees me and veers off to his desk. He's not being friendly these days but he is avoiding me. I suppose it's a good response to what he must be thinking about me.

I'm waiting for the lift when Angel comes over. He's wearing a new hat. He smiles warmly.

"Hey Dexter. You ok?" He's intimated a couple of times that he's there for me if I ever need to talk. Obviously my carefree widower act is not holding water. I nod.

"Yeah, yeah. Just tired you know, with Cody, Astor and Harrison all staying with me in the apartment there's not much room." I don't mention that this close proximity to children is stopping me thinking about Lumen, about my life. Angel's hand squeezes my arm.

"Let's go out sometime Dex, like we used to? I'm sure Maria would sit for you." I smile, thinking about how Maria will feel about this offer. She loves Harrison but I'm not sure how she is with older kids. I'd probably come home to a LaGuerta/Astor showdown.

"Thanks Angel. That'd be great." I've got to start piecing some kind of life together again. I think back to those awful 'boys' nights out' with Vince and Angel. I suppose Quinn would be coming this time too. The lift comes, just saving me from that thought.

It's strange arriving at a crime scene not being worked by my own people. The detective in charge shakes my hand and leads me through the tape and into the apartment. I'm instantly aware that something is wrong.

There are no photos in the whole apartment, nothing to show this girl's past, her family, nothing. Yet it's clear she's lived here a while, no unpacked boxes and the sort of untidiness which points to months of routine. A coat on the back of the chair, shoes left abandoned inside the front door.

It's also obvious she hasn't left of her own accord. In the bedroom the bedclothes have been ripped from the mattress, pooling in a corner like a nest. Someone was frightened here. My Dark Passenger can scent the fear.

"So, an abduction?" I ask and the detective nods and points.

"Yeah, we've no name. Just a neighbour saying there was some noise and that she's gone. The name she was leasing under is false. It's all a bit... odd." He trails off. Good, I like odd.

"Plus, it looks like it. We found these." He shows me some scrapes along a wall, by the back door which leads to the fire escape.

"Fingernails?" I ask, looking at the scraping which starts off deep and becomes fainter as it scores along the plaster. He shrugs.

"That's why we've got you in. Vince said you're good." I look at him, did he? The detective blinks.

"Right, well Dex, I'll let you get on with it then. Yell if you find anything." I kneel down and unzip my bag. By the bottom of the wall is a small half moon of a nail. I take some tweezers and bring it up to my face. There are tiny spots of blood on the edge of the nail. I bag the evidence and then pocket it. This is my hunt.

I stand up and let my eyes pan the room, switching off my thoughts to allow in the silence which is most conducive to deduction. What's wrong here? What is out of place? What tells me the story of what happened?

The polished wood floor gleams dully in the light filtering through the net curtains, by the door some dark scuffing mars the smooth surface. I cross the room and scrape some of the residue into a bag. The detective comes back.

"Anything?" I shake my head as I stand.

"No blood. There's some scuffing might be from where she was dragged but," I shrug, "it might be where she caught her foot and tripped. I took a sample anyway." I hold up the bag in my latex gloved hand and give it a little shake. The detective frowns and nods.

"Well, thanks anyway. Can I call you if anything else comes up?"

"Yeah, sure." I duck under the tape and go back to the SUV.

I drive back to the lab; I turn the radio on but then turn it off again because the news is about the disappearance of Jordan Chase. I don't want to be reminded of her but my mind is replaying again. Damn.

Lumen's skin, flushed and scarred, lying back on the deck of my boat. The smell of her, the taste of her. Her hair like a silk rope between my fingertips. The sound of her breath hissed out over her teeth, her soft lips under mine.

My head is pounding, I can barely see the road, the images of her are so vivid, so paralysing. I pull over to the side of the road, startling a couple of young kids walking on the sidewalk. They glance behind them and walk faster but I'm not interested in them.

I rest my head on the steering wheel, breath ripped out of me. I wait for the pounding, the waves of cold shivers to finish.

"Dexter, focus Dexter." Says Harry from the passenger seat. I slide my eyes sideways, forehead hurting against the vinyl of the wheel.

"I am trying." The words are staccato, pained. Harry frowns.

"What about this missing girl? Get to the station, run the blood on that finger nail. Give yourself something to think about." His voice is urgent; it drills in between the flashes images of Lumen, visceral, more real than reality.

"I know, I know." I grit my teeth over the next wave, her voice saying my name, her hands in my hair. What is this? How can I kill and feel no remorse, no regret and yet this woman unravels me. I trip over my own thoughts. I am shaking.

I sit there, feeling the sweat on my shirt growing cold as I ride the storm of emotion. When I can concentrate I start up the SUV and drive back to the station.

I can't see Deb, not like this. She'll know something is wrong in an instant. I dial the number of the station. Angel answers.

"Batista." He sounds tired.

"Hey Angel, it's Dexter. Is Debra there?" I imagine him looking across the office.

"No, it looks like she and Quinn left early, if you know what I mean." He chuckles. I grimace and force myself to laugh.

"Oh, ok. I'll try her cell. Thanks." I hang up; at least I know she won't be at the station.

I take the blood down to the lab myself. I fill out the stub with a case I've been using to hide things in for the last few months; it helps to know which cases are still open. I hang around, making it clear that I am prepared to wait for the results. The woman in the lab coat sighs and rolls her eyes but she processes the sample anyway. Two hours and three cups of awful machine coffee later I have a name.

Jessica Daniels. I chant it like a mantra as I take the lift to my floor. No one stops me as I make my way to my part of the office and close the blinds. I log in and type her name into the all states database. It scrolls through the possibles and eventually her face and details come up.

She's twenty seven, born a long way from here, Chicago. She's been pulled in twice for stealing. Mainly little things but then there's this mad stage where she's reported missing from home and she steals a car. The neighbour who owned the vehicle didn't press charges. I frown at the slight, blond woman. What aren't you telling me? I ask her silent image.

Her father's name is hyperlinked, so I click. Bryan Daniels. His record is extensive. Time for assault, mainly of his wife and former partners. Time for sexual abuse of the younger sister, the brother. A picture starts to form in my head. I know this kind of monster.

I print the details of them both, stuffing them into my bag as Masuka comes into the room, unaware of my presence.

"Dex! Jesus man! You scared me! What you doing in the dark?" I log off the PC and rub my eyes. "Oh man, are you sleeping here?" I nod sheepishly.

"It's just so hard at home Vince. Don't tell LaGuerta, please. It was just a half hour." I look at him pleadingly, rubbing my hands in my hair knowing it will stick up at all angles and make me look even more sleepy. He pats me on the shoulder.

"If you need a place to rest your head away from the dependents, just call ok?" I nod gratefully and he leaves, shaking his head. I can almost see him deciding never to have children. Not that this decision should pose a particular problem for him, I think.

I drive home thinking about Jessica Daniels. Something tells me she's been running. From her father? Maybe he's caught up with her? As I pull into the kerb I see a woman, blonde, wearing jogging pants and a sweatshirt. She is standing outside the complex of my apartments. She sees the car pull in and she jogs away.

That night, when the children are all asleep and there is nowhere for me to go, I stand on the balcony and open a beer. The soft moonlight plays on the palm leaves, the windows of the apartment. It silvers the pool which sloshes gently below me. I turn my gaze from the sea and out onto the street. She is there again. For a moment we look at each other. She steps back into the shadows and is gone.

Ok if you read my last Dexter fic then you'll know I loved the Lumen/Dexter relationship. So I was gutted when she left him. This is how I'd like Season 6 to start... Let me know what you think. Cx


	2. Hunting

Lumen leans over me, her soft hair traces across my chest, leaving sparks across my body. The hot skin of her thighs rest over my lower stomach, I can feel her, wet, against me. My body responds because I have no choice. She draws me, pulls me towards her inexorably like a magnet. I groan her name, I arch up towards her and I wake.

Panting in the pale early morning light, a light sheen of sweat covers me, the sheets thrown back by my twisting, the effects of my dream painfully obvious. I throw myself back on the pillow and stifle a cry of frustration, all the longing, the frustration, the disappointment bubbling in my belly, threatening to overwhelm me. I beat the pillow on her side of the bed with my fist, punching and punching until I have nothing left. Nothing left but a bed which is not wholly mine anymore and an erection that taunts me with its persistence.

I breathe out a long breath and will it away. This constant battle with my body, with my brain and, I realise with horror, with my heart, is making me weak. Stripping me of the will to fight. For once it looks like my adversary will actually overcome me. Ironic that I am defeating myself.

I lie there for a moment, choosing my next attack. Ok, if my body is determined to make me see what I have lost, I glance down and I can't avoid the glaring sign of this emptiness, then I will beat it at its own game. I will make my body surrender.

I run my hands down my torso, skimming over my navel and pushing down. I imagine they are not my wide palmed, blunt fingered hands but Lumen's. Soft, slim fingered, small and strong. A breath shudders out, my body starts to realise that it's not going to win.

Under the tousled sheet I grab myself and then gentle my grasp, deliberately mimicking the soft way she used to touch me. I only have a small handful of remembrances to draw from and I squeeze each one dry.

Slowly I move my fingers, my hips jerk to the movement of the hand which I am divorcing from the rest of me to make this real, to make this work. I force myself to believe my own lies.

I close my eyes to better see her face, the bitten lip of concentration as she watches what she is doing to me, how I am unspooling out before her, for her. Her breathing, intense, focussed only on my tortured flesh as she ekes from me moans, whispers, love, longing. Her tongue brushes her lower lip and then she bends to kiss me. Her taste, her tongue between my lips.

My motion quickens and I am torn. Torn between the desire to get it over with, recover from this bout of civil war I am waging with my own skin. And the urge to keep her here, in my thoughts, on my body even if she is not real, even if she is never coming back. Oh god.

Oh god, oh god. I cry out to a deity who I don't believe in and who never fucking listens anyway. I spill out, over the sheets, my own hot flesh. A long, empty, flat page of nothing covers me. I cry.

I hear my quiet sobs and I feel the tears on my cheek and I observe myself in utter horror and shock, everything I knew about myself disproved and confirmed at once. I am not the monster I thought I was, Harry was wrong. Lumen has made me real. Even her absence makes me real.

I lie very still, not daring to move in case I dislodge the thought, the feeling of strange peace and emptiness which fills me. I hear Harrison laughing, Cody and Astor too. The distance, the awful, vasty chasm of emotion makes them sound miles away, in another world.

I get up and throw on a t-shirt and cotton pants. I go through to the bathroom.

"Morning Dexter!" Cody waves as he tickles his younger brother. Harrison is giggling so hard he can barely breathe. Without meaning to I smile.

"Morning troops!" We all salute each other, Astor joining in despite the fact I know she thinks she's too old for this kind of game.

"Shall I change him?" she asks, pointing to Harrison. I deliberately misunderstand to make her laugh.

"Well, you can try but Cody's a little big for the diaper!" Cody throws a cushion and I catch it laughing. They will save me, I think as I go into the bathroom to cleanse myself of the crushing start to the day. They will save me from this.

By the time Sonja gets her and we've all had breakfast I am going to be late for work. I kiss everyone but the nanny who just laughs as I miss her out from my affection and I run to the SUV.

As I pull out of the parking lot there is someone standing by the low wall. I turn my head, her image dragging my attention away from the road and onto her frame. Lumen. I am sure it is Lumen. A thump from the tyres forces me to tear my gaze back to the road. I am on the kerb, heading for the wall. I swerve the wheel, feeling my shoulder muscles protest as I drag the tonne of metal away from its path of destruction and back onto the asphalt. In the instant I right the car I glance in the rear view mirror but there is no one there. I shake my head. This is going to kill me.

"Dexter," Harry's voice is warning as he leans against the open passenger window. I don't even meet his eyes.

"I know." I say and I sound weary even to myself. "Jessica Daniels should be the only woman I am thinking about, right?" I feel Harry nod.

"She's been missing for too long now Dexter," for a moment I think he means Lumen and I struggle to keep up. "Anything could have happened to her. Could be happening to her." I know what he is doing. He's trying to make me feel protective of her, it worked with Lumen. Even my ghosts are worried about my mental state. Just great.

Masuka has a lead on the girl murderer. He's found a footprint at a crime scene which doesn't match anyone who he knows has been there and now he wants me to help. I fight back the bad mood, started by my bad dream and try to smile.

"Yeah, sure Vince. What's the problem?" He explains how he can't reconstruct the lower portion of the print, the polymer clay he used on the scene hasn't set and the imprint has come out right. It's something I've experienced before, the Miami heat doesn't work with that brand. It's why we have a tonne of it in the office but he wasn't to know that, not being the lead blood guy. I smile, he looks nervous so I adjust my expression.

"We'll have to reprint from this right now." I take the print and turn quickly to the desk, directing him to fetch the necessary equipment and enjoying the scuffle of his feet as he rushes to do my bidding.

Twenty minutes later we have a print he can work with and I realise that I haven't thought about lumen since we started. Of course the thought itself breaks my run but I feel some kind of inner peace. This is how I used to be, before her. Whole, self contained.

Vince offers to get me coffee and I nod. I sit at the desk that faces the office floor and I'm not looking at anything but I am thinking. I'm thinking that even Rita didn't bother me like this and I married her.

"Yes, but she was a foil, a guard." Harry says leaning in to whisper in my ear. I nod, distractedly. "I know you felt something for her Dex but it wasn't this was it? Don't beat yourself up. I'm proud. It proves your human." I look at him.

"What?" I hiss, "This is human?" I poke myself hard in the chest. It hurts but so does every other fucking thing these days. "Then I want to be a monster Harry. I don't want to feel like this!" at her desk Deb looks up, she frowns and comes over.

"hey," she puts her hand on my shoulder and then removes it like she's not sure she should be touching me, "How you doin'? Masuka says you're dog tired." I nod, rub my hand over my brow. Deb perches on the desk next to me.

"Have you thought of taking some time off? Take the kids away? Hey, I'll have the kids, you just take off. Take the boat out." I look at her, the concern on her face. If I wasn't planning on researching and killing a man then the offer would be tempting. But I can't go near the boat, the fibre glass and the wood hold too many memories. She's ruined me, ruined everything. I grab my bag off the back of the chair.

"Think I might just go for a walk." I say and she nods, puts her hand back on my shoulder and smiles at me.

"You know where I am." I nod.

I drive down to the beach. I park the SUV and sit looking out at the sea. The beach is busy even during the working day. Families, couples, surfers. The harsh sun beats down on us all.

I get out of the car and put on my sunglasses. I grab my bag and find some shade by some rocks. I flip the laptop open and am pleased to find that I can still read the screen, the shade is just enough for me to read by. While the machine boots up I lie back against the rock at my back, feeling its heat through the thin cotton of my shirt. My eyes are drawn to a lone figure further down the sand, a woman standing by a beach umbrella where they're selling drinks. I can't see much of her from here, I'm squinting into the sun but there's something in her posture, her stance, strikes a cord in me. I sit up, raising my hand to shield my eyes. She walks forward a few steps; her wide sun hat hides her face. She hesitates, changes her mind. She walks away, her bare feet making imprints in the sand which are clearer than her presence.

My heart is racing. I stand up, ready to call out but she's too far away. I feel hope rising in me, a pain worse than the first cut of her leaving. It isn't her Dexter. It isn't her. I sit down, more angry with myself because it's an easier pain than the needle sharp stab of disappointment.

Still angry I turn back to the laptop. I type Bryan Daniels into the social services database and wait. A few seconds later the whole man is there, laid out for me to dissect almost as though he's on my table already.

Yes, he is a bad man and yes, there were accusations made against him by his daughter. Accusations which were discounted when his wife spoke up against her child. Jessica remained in their custody; I shake my head at the injustice seeing into the situation which happened more than ten years ago. I close the page and move on, silently trawling the hospital records until I find what I want.

Jessica Daniels has repeated admittance to hospitals. At first the same place and then further afield as though her father is scattering the evidence wide, hoping to elude detection. And he's succeeded until now. So, where is he today?

He's in Miami. There was some problem at internal flights because of a suspected weapon in his hand luggage. It doesn't say what it was, it could have been a pair of nail clippers in this day and age but it puts his name on the register and so I find him. Flying into Miami about three weeks ago. Just in time to find and kidnap his daughter.

Four more clicks, a slice of knowledge of how the system works and three phone calls later and I have the temporary address he's staying at in Miami. It's not difficult. There's a limited number of places a man with his income could stay near the area where his daughter lives. I take a stab in the dark and phone the first three in the phonebook, it's probably what he did too. I tell the receptionists I have a rental car for Mr Daniels but I've lost the details of where he's staying. They're not supposed to tell me, they all make sure I know that, but then I plead. New at the job, going to be in so much trouble when the client calls in and they capitulate.

I slap the laptop closed and scan the beach, the woman has gone and I curse myself for even looking. Why can't I just see that she's never coming back? All those ideas I had at Harrison's party. About how I was going to be a new person, move on from Rita's death because of the atonement I had made with Lumen and here I am, stuck in a groove which just plays her name over and over. Maybe I need to watch Bryan Daniels; maybe I need to distract myself some more.

"The code says you don't just kill someone because you're in the mood Dex." Harry chides me as we climb into the SUV. I sigh, sometimes I feel like a teenager when he talks to me like this.

"I'm not just killing him because I'm in the mood!" I snap, then sigh and sag at the shoulders. "Look, if he's clean then I'll leave him alone and it will have been something… something to think about."

"Other than her?" Harry's voice is soft. I nod and start the engine.

The Blue Dolphin Motel is just how it sounds. The sky blue paint is crumbling from the plaster stucco and the sign is non existent, instead the name of the place is painted in blocky white letters on the wall.

I enter reception and the woman I spoke to on the phone; she can't be more than twenty, looks pleased to be distracted. I notice the mop and bucket and guess she was going to clean the rooms until I showed up to delay her. I smile, she smiles back. Already we are friends.

"Hi, I phoned earlier? From the car rental company?" she nods, still smiling. "I have to thank you for your help," I rush the words out with relief and I mean them, but not in the way she thinks. "Got the car here," I wave vaguely outside and she doesn't look. "Can you tell me where to drop the keys?"

"Uh huh." She grins and runs a chipped pink fingernail down a list. I see his name; I could have looked myself and not risked her mentioning the non existent rental to him. Damn. "207", she cocks her head and smiles.

"Phew!" I run a hand across my forehead in mock relief and she giggles. "Listen, thanks, you really saved my bacon."

"Hey, no worries," she leans back in her chair revealing a little bit too much leg, "we're all new once and we all fuck up." I smile and nod.

"Thanks then!" I give her a little wave and she grins.

207 is around the back, well out of sight of the road and the reception desk. I stand around the corner and spend some time making sure no one is about. The place is so deserted that it could be one of those old movie lots you hear about, abandoned out in the desert. I slip on my gloves, don't even think about it Dexter, I tell myself. Don't think about the gloves, about the other pair, their twin, somewhere out in the world. Not here with me, where they should be.

I make for the door quickly and get out my lock pick. I stamp hard on the queasy feeling in my stomach as my brain begins the rerun of Lumen it seems to find such entertainment in tormenting me with these last few weeks. The problem with sharing everything with someone is now apparent. When they leave everything reminds you of them.

"You really have to teach me how to do that one of these days." Her voice is soft, impressed. One of those days that we don't have. We don't have because you left. And you left because I'm a monster and you're not a monster. I say this in leaden tones, muttering under my breath 'til she shuts up.

"Focus Dex." Says Harry, I scowl.

The door opens but not before I see the signs that someone else has gotten in without a key. Not so unusual in a motel room I think, until I see the new scratches on the lock. I wipe my finger over them and see the scrapes of shiny metal. This has been done today.

I close the door gently behind me and listen. There's no one here, my Dark Passenger knows it instantly.

The room is slovenly, untidy and unhygienic. Dirty laundry thrown in a corner and a rank smell which tells of uneaten food, unwashed clothes and beer. I move quickly about the room, eyes searching the semi gloom of the closed curtains. At first I see nothing, then the small things start to fit together.

In a drawer under the bed I find a rope, tell tale brown marks at one end. I take a sample, careful to coil it beck in its original tangle. Then a child's shoe, a seemingly unlikely object to find in the motel room of a middle aged man. By the time I find the pictures I already know the story.

He's killing the girls. He's here to find his daughter, maybe he already has, but in the meantime he's killing the girls. I smile.

"Thank you." I whisper to the darkness.

There's noise in the bathroom, a scuffle which might be a rat but I tense and lean back against the wall. A window bangs and there is a pounding of feet. Sloppy Dexter, very sloppy, I shake my head. How can the Dark Passenger be wrong? There was no one here, I was certain of it. No one I could feel, see or here.

I go into the bathroom, careful even though I know that whoever my fellow trespasser was, they have gone. The window is bumping softly against its frame and I close and lock it. As I pull my hand away from the catch something glints in the muted sunshine. I pull my gloved hand back. A long blonde hair sits curled in my black leather palm like a question mark.

**So, chapter two, how do we feel about Dexter's reaction to his dreams? Obviously they'll never do this in the show but it's fanfiction right? **** Hope you liked this , I did proof read but had to post right now bc won't get chance to do it otherwise. cx**


	3. The Hunt

All the way home my mind plays it over. The hair, the woman I have seen so many times in the last couple of days. Is it my desperate hope that tells me it is Lumen? Or it is instinct, the knowing in my cells that she is near? I'm too invested in the outcome to tell the difference.

I drive home on automatic pilot, weaving through traffic and cruising past the palms as though I am a robot. Just as I'm parking up the phone rings.

"Hey! Dex, so, how'd you feel about that boys' night out? Maria says she's happy to watch the children." Angel sounds like a lot is resting on my answer, I appreciate that he's probably in the dog house with Maria now to organise this distraction for me.

"You sure? The apartment's really small; there won't be much for her to do once the kids are in bed." I don't want to go out; I want to watch Bryan Daniels and try to work out the identity of my mystery stalker.

"That's ok, bring the kids here. We have tonnes of room. And then you can pick them up in the morning. Todo va a estar bien." He says confidently. It's all very well for him to think it's all going to be alright, he's not babysitting Astor. But I can see he's not going to let it go.

"Well, if you're sure then, that's great. What time shall I bring them over?"

"Is seven thirty a good time? What time do they go to bed?" He is writing this down, I can tell by his voice.

"Well, about seven for Harrison but half an hour's delay will be ok, Cody and Astor, well, later usually."

"Ok, we'll expect you over at seven thirty."

I get out of the SUV thinking that the kids being away for the night at least this gives me some time to work out what to do about Bryan Daniels.

So at seven thirty I arrive at the house Angel shares with Maria with an SUV full of children, one already asleep and two more excited about staying out tonight. I turn in the driver's seat as I park the car.

"Ok, you know the rules guys. When Maria says it's time for bed, no arguing, no whining, ok?" Cody and Astor nod and it seems genuine. "And behave yourselves."

"Have a good night out Dexter; you don't have to worry about us." Astor's voice is a younger, edgier version of Rita's and, for a moment I am taken aback by her maturity, her caring. Is this the product of the nurturing mother she had, or something in her genes which makes her worry about other people and care about their happiness? I look at Harrison, his head lolling back as he snores, gentle toddler noises. What is in his genes? Will nature overcome nurture? I shake my head to dislodge the thought and Astor frowns, she thinks I'm disagreeing with her so I smile and I watch her relax. So like her mother, so sensitive to the moods of others. I miss Rita.

We leave the children sitting with Maria on the sofa watching a film about teenage spies. Even though I know they have both seen this film before and Astor hates it, they are politely eating popcorn and grinning at the comedy parts. I am still thinking about Rita as we get into a cab and head off downtown to a new club which Masuka insists is 'banging'.

Through the window I watch my face slide across the suburban houses, their neat lawns, their coloured walls, their dwarf palm trees and I think about Rita. I miss her, I really do. I miss pretending to be a normal man, someone whose concerns are the garbage being put out on the right night, the scratch on the side of the car where a kid has gone by too close on their bike. I miss that man, I realise, and Rita was part of his life. I'm someone new now. Not a monster and an act. Someone whole, she made me whole, Lumen. She made me whole, took away the need to act with one person in my world and then she left.

"So, Dexter baby, let's find you a hottie tonight huh?" Vince is leering and he pats my knee conspiratorially. Angel laughs and looks out of the window, distancing himself from the obvious ruse but sliding his glance sideways to see my reaction. I frown and shake my head.

"Thanks Vince, but I really don't have time for..." I'm about to say complications but the word strikes me as one which will invite questions. "For a relationship. I have the kids here, work is crazy." No one corrects me although we all know that the only case we have on is Bryan Daniels. I amend my thoughts, I know it's Bryan Daniels, these two haven't a clue. I realise I don't mean the work I do at the station; I mean the work hunting and killing Bryan. We're on first name terms now, I must be close.

"Is that car following us?" Angel's voice is suddenly wary and he's looking out of the rear window. I turn in my seat and Vince leans his hands against the parcel shelf and peers through the glass.

"What makes you say that?" I ask as I catch a glimpse of the driver as we pass under a streetlamp. They are wearing a dark hooded sweatshirt and I can't see anything else.

"I don't know but I thought it was parked outside the house when we got into the cab." Angels says thoughtfully, rasping his hands across his stubble. I look back at him and he shrugs.

"They've turned down 32nd." Vince states, pointing. I look back and see the car pulling off to the right, the driver looks pale skinned, slim. There's nothing else to see but my heart is racing. What is going on? We all turn away from the window. The mood shifts.

"But, if you met the right girl, that would be ok? Yeah?" Angel leans back towards me and passes me a hipflask. I sniff the contents.

"Tequila? Is this some sort of plan to melt my brain entirely?" I grin because I know it's how I'm supposed to react. I'm not sure I should be drinking, I want to stay sharp. I take a sip that looks like a swig. Angel and Masuka grin.

The club is certainly loud. Neon palms, huge flashing suns and cocktail glasses punctuate the darkness with alarming colour. Semi naked bodies writhe on shiny black podiums and I have never felt less a member of society in my life. Masuka shouts something to me but I can't hear him. I frown and he mimes the universal gesture for drink. I nod reluctantly. We lean on the bar and wait for the bartender to notice him. Angel touches my elbow.

"Hey amigo, I'm glad you came out. Me and the boys were worried about you." I smile and touch his hand with my fingers.

"Thanks, but I'm ok. Really. It's just hard with the kids..." he interrupts, squeezing my elbow more tightly, leaning in to me.

"Hey, you don't need to tell me that bull Dex, we're friends remember? You lost Rita, you fell out with Cody and Astor, then you met that girl..." he clicks his fingers, frowning, he's forgotten her name. I wish I could forget it too; I look at him with envy.

"Lumen." I offer, the name slicing through me. I look across the dance floor, mainly to hide any expression I cannot avoid betraying to him. A girl on the floor is whipping her hair about, long, straight and golden it whirls about her like a halo, she is grinning, her cheeks flushed and shiny. My heart starts to beat faster even though I know it isn't her, it can't be her. But my body doesn't want to believe me. I never saw Lumen dance, suddenly in this instant I want that moment so much it chokes me up.

"Yeah, Lumen." Angel rescues me from myself, my mutinous brain and body. "And, you know, we thought you were sorted out. She seemed nice, she was hot." He smiles and I bite my lip. He sees my reaction and hurries on. "And then, she was gone. I don't know what happened." He holds up a hand." And you don't have to tell me, but I am worried about you, friend. If you need to talk huh?" He puts his arm about me and grips me. I nod and try to smile. I know the gesture comes off as tight, unconvincing but he nods, gives me a final squeeze and lets go.

The rest of the night I spend avoiding. Avoiding thinking every blonde in the place is someone I know; avoiding drinking all the tequila Masuka is forcing on me and avoiding being made to dance by Angel who seems to have brought his Latin rhythm with him tonight.

I watch him sway to the hypnotic beat of the dance music, for a big man he's light on his feet and surprisingly graceful. He's with a crowd of girls, it always happens. He has this magnetism I think. Like the opposite of my polarity he pulls people to him. Even though I have left most of the glasses which Vince has bought for me on the bar I am beginning to feel that otherworldly effect I only get from drink, or killing. I see Vince sidle over to where Angel is dancing with a couple of shot glasses and Angel takes it from him and raises his hat in thanks. They stop dancing and I see them counting before they gulp down the shots in one movement. Angel shudders comically and Vince grins and slaps him on the back. Then he turns and scans the crowd, he's looking for me, I shrink back into the shadows.

"Hey handsome." A voice, soft and teasing protests from behind me and I realise I have stepped back into the personal space of another body. I turn. She is pretty, younger than I am, my brain sets her at about the same age as Lumen before I have time to stop its calculations. She looks me up and down; a slow smile spreads on her face.

"Oh I was right, you are handsome." She says slowly, letting her eyes linger in a way that is obviously appreciative down my torso. I bite my lip, I just want to leave. But then she leans in close and her soft hair touches my collarbone, the golden sheen of it all I can see, and her perfume hits me. It is soft and musky, a hint of rose. It is Lumen's scent.

I cannot avoid my body's reaction to the smell. They say that the olfactory system is directly linked to memory and I realise how right they are as I feel my shoulders fall, my defences down. I open my mouth to speak but nothing happens. She leans in closer.

"Hey," she whispers, "you don't have to say anything." Her hands are flat on my chest and her lips touch mine. At first I don't respond, my mind is screaming that this is not what I want to be doing, this is not who I want to be kissing, but then the animal inside, angry from the whiplash of release and reimprisonment surges forward. I kiss her back. I pull her body flush with mine and feel her respond, her gasp between my parted lips as I press my splayed hand into the small of her back. A shuddering surge of lust goes through me. She feels it and presses closer to me, sliding her knee between my legs, pushing against me. Hot and cold, I am shivering with the power of the moment. I put my hands on her jaw bone and pull back, still panting from the intensity. I look at her; her pupils are dilated, wide and open. She's mine if I want her. I glance behind her to Vince and Angel, still dancing, wondering if they have seen this exchange. There is a movement on the far wall of the club behind them. My eyes focus on the figure in the shadows.

Her hood is down and I can barely make out her face but her golden hair falls forward from the collar of the hood and pools around her like a halo. The flashing coloured lights obscure her features but I can't help think it is her, Lumen. It's like an electric shock.

In an instant I realise that, even if this isn't really Lumen, it's a warning. A warning that I cannot just let go with this anonymous blonde, I don't have that luxury. I'm not like other men and I can't just pretend that I am. My hands come up from the girl's face, I step back. She frowns, still panting.

"What's wrong?" I shake my head, not trusting my body to make out the words I need to say. She smiles sadly as though she understands. "I'd come back for you too, if I were her, handsome." She whispers and I feel the beginning of tears prickle in my throat. What is happening to me? The girl strokes my face with her slim fingers, for a moment I nearly stay, I nearly kiss her again, run my hands down her back. But then the figure against the wall moves away, head down and I follow.

I have to run to keep up with the slight form as they push past the crowd and out of the club. I realise I haven't told Vince and Angel where I'm going but I don't even hesitate. Outside, people mill about on the sidewalk, some dancing to the beat of the music which pounds through the open doorway. My blood is pounding too, although the slightly cooler night air clears my head a little as I stand out in the street, scanning left and right for the mysterious stalker. I see them turning down an alleyway and I jog after their dark outline.

I keep a healthy distance between us and the night air begins to clear my head. What am I doing? Even though the fog of tequila is abating the crazy fire ignited by kissing that stranger is still scorching in my veins. I feel possessed, compelled to chase after this person I don't even know. Maybe the hunt, the actual act of following them unnoticed, will make me feel better? I need to sharpen my wits on the razor's edge of this lust pulsing through me.

My prey doesn't seem to have noticed I am with them. They are walking now, no rush to their movements, if anything they seem to linger, reluctant to move on. I see them slip gently sideways onto a empty street. I slow my walk, approach the corner and a stab of adrenaline hits me full in the belly. We are outside Bryan Daniel's motel.

The shadowy body before me slides effortlessly into the darkness of the near wall. Their movements gentle, cat like. It's definitely a woman, her hips and shoulders are too narrow and her curves too pronounced even for a teenage boy. Who is she? What is she doing in this part of town?

On her toes she moves lightly forward, her arms at her sides and I notice that her gait seems to be adapted to counterbalance something heavy in her pocket. I can't see her hands in the dim light, she's wearing gloves. Although my body is tensed, alert to her every movement, my brain is working madly. I want this to be Lumen but I can't find a scenario that makes this solution likely. She's gone home, to start her new life. A life without horror and monsters and darkness. With you, my mind murmurs. So who is this woman?

"Maybe it's his daughter?" Whispers Harry beside me. I look back at him briefly, raising my eyebrows so this ghost knows that this isn't the best moment to break my concentration. He raises his brows back at me and then nods his head forward. She has taken two more steps. I follow silently.

"Jessica Daniels?" I frown at Harry. "Hadn't you decided he kidnapped her?" I sound sulky, he shrugs.

"Maybe he tried. Maybe he tried and she got away and now she's going to get her revenge. What's in that pocket Dex? A gun?" I take a silent breath and focus on the swinging pocket of the sweatshirt. The person wearing it is still, I can hear her breathing, pushing out her air over her teeth like she's steeling herself, preparing to make a move. There is a motion from inside Bryan Daniel's room; he crosses the closed curtains, his frame blacking out the light briefly. We both freeze in unison, our actions mimicking each other as we stop dead in our tracks. It's like we're dancing.

I look back to the pocket. Whatever is distorting the fabric of the sweatshirt is too long for a gun. How would she have got it into the club anyway, I wonder? Maybe she hid it outside and picked it up later? Why was she at the club? Why was she at the club and why is she here now? I can't make this make sense.

She tiptoes ahead of me, quickly, feet barely making a sound. I watch her duck down under the window and crawl on her knees to the other side of the door to the motel room. She carries on. I catch my breath. What? Maybe she doesn't want Daniels? Maybe I've got this all wrong? I'm following some girl home to her parents, who don't know she snuck out to go clubbing. I almost turn to leave but then I hear the click of the door of the next room, she slips inside.

I stay where I am, waiting. I glance at my watch. She's been in there twenty minutes. I curse myself for ending up in a situation where I cannot leave, my curiosity won't let me. I look out over the sandy alleyway between the motel buildings, in a window a couple kiss. Their movements are frantic, desperate. He picks her up, her legs wrapped around him in silhouette, he steps back, no doubt to the bed. I close my eyes; it's all too close for comfort. Too near the bone. I open them again as I hear the door opening.

She is wearing a cropped t shirt, tight shorts. Her hair is back in a pony tail but her face is turned from me and I can't see her features. On cat's feet she nimbly darts forward. Outside the door of Daniel's apartment she raises her left hand to knock. Something glitters in her right, held down by the side of her dark trousers. I try to hold my breath as the moon comes out and reveals the object she is holding. It's a syringe.

**I've had some criticism for typos and the like. I can't give you any excuses except I am impatient and word blind when I try to read back what I have written. So, you have to thank the gorgeous and meticulous Verityburns for sorting this out beta wise. And I have to thank her for being awesome and reminding me to feed the cat.**

**Let me know what you think about this chapter if you have time. Not many Dexfics out there, not many Dexfic reviewers and I can't figure out why... Cx**


	4. The kill

Time is relative. I know people have said this before but it's true. It's true because I have enough time to imagine and think a million thoughts as the woman's hand raises to the door and she knocks three times. Even though I want to believe it is Lumen, even though there is no other explanation for the syringe, my fear of disappointment, of rejection, tries to find other solutions to this situation. The shadows of the opposite buildings make her hard to make out.

"Who is it?" Daniel's voice is gruff though the closed door.

"Tommy sent me." Her voice goes through me like a knife but I have no time to process because the door opens and Daniels comes out, chuckling in the dim light. He is slim, dirty and in a dressing gown.

"Oh, he's good man." He leers as his eyes rake her body. He puts out an arm to pull her close and she flashes up her hand and jabs the needle in his neck. I see the fingertip pushing down the syringe and he slumps against the doorway. She glances along the alley and I shrink back into the shadows. It is her, Lumen Pierce. Her soft features sharp with concentration as she drags his body into the other motel room, slipping inside and shutting the door with a click. I tiptoe forward; scuffing over the tracks of his feet made she pulled him along. Covering her evidence over without even thinking.

I crouch at the window and peer up. The curtains are closed and something else blurs my sight, plastic sheeting, I realise in wonder. I feel my heart racing, my brain has stopped working for a second as I fight to take in this information. She is killing him. Dexter style. I feel myself smile and there is pride, lust and regret in my expression. I need to see what happens.

I run around to the back of the motel block, remembering the bathroom window that my fellow stalker used when she broke into Daniel's rooms. As I run I realise that this must have been Lumen. She was there, doing just what I was doing. Watching him, gathering her evidence. We are partners even though we don't speak anymore.

As I slide my body through the open window I am aware that I am excited. Excited to see her again and excited to see her kill. I try not to focus on the searing desire which is flooding my system, try to ignore the throb building in my flesh. I drop gently to the floor, she doesn't hear me and from the sounds in the room I know she is wrapping the body.

There is no bathroom door in this apartment but the light and the sheeting hide me enough to let me see. I know that a person looking in a doorway will look at head height, it's instinct, the direction from where we expect danger to come, so I lie on the cold bathroom floor, feeling my body's arousal as I press myself to the ground.

She has him on the rickety table. He is naked and bound in the shiny film. Webbed up like the victim of a Black Widow spider. The floor, the walls, even some of the ceiling is preserved in plastic. Lumen is laying something out on the bed, also plastic wrapped and prepared. My heart quickens as she takes the knife from the back pocket of the shorts and places it down carefully, the crackle of the plastic telling me it is a weighty weapon. I watch her bend in those tight shorts. Her long legs taut in her posture as she arranges the plastic more carefully over the edge of the bed, tucking it under the legs at the bottom. Her breasts fall gently forward in her cropped vest top and I feel a stab of longing through me. The animal in me growls itself awake. I want to break from my hiding place, push her on the bed, make her mine again. But I don't.

I don't because I can hear the voice, the voice of the rejection, the hurt and the pain that I have been living with since she saw all of me and left. It tells me she doesn't want me.

I argue with myself. She said she's lost her darkness but this woman who is lovingly preparing her kill room and polishing her knife with a soft cloth is not without shadows. Maybe she was wrong about it all? So why hasn't she contacted me? Come home? I realise my choice of words with a lump in my throat.

She puts on her apron, kicks off her high heels and covers her feet in small surgical slippers. She smoothes the plastic of the apron down over her thighs, the skin sticking to the plastic. My mouth is dry. I try to swallow, I shift on the floor and the friction rushes through my body.

Lumen opens an envelope, taking from it glossy photos. She bites through the sticky tape with her teeth, the sound, the flash of her sharp canines slicing through makes me moan softly. She stops and looks about her, to Daniels, still out cold on the table. She smiles to herself. I feel my heart pound against the tiled floor.

She sticks the photos onto the plastic sheets covering the far wall, just in Daniel's line of sight. She has seven photos, I frown, I only found four victims, five, if his daughter is dead already. She has found seven; I shake my head in wonder. How long has she been watching him?

She moves quickly now to the side of the table by his head. She is facing me and I see her expression as she waves the smelling salts under his nose. He chokes himself awake, coughing and retching. She lifts his head gently, like a mother, and I know she doesn't want him to choke to death. His death is her possession. Her precision, the passion in her movements are overwhelmingly erotic. I feel on fire.

"What?" he grunts, jerking up against the wrapping and I watch his feet thrash, Lumen looks at his feet too. I see her thinking. Next time she will bind her victim more carefully. I smile, it's like telepathy.

"Shhhh." She murmurs soothingly as she strokes back his hair, I've seen her do this before. The gesture so gentle, so much like a lover that it sends a terrible thrill through me. Daniel stops thrashing and I know his eyes will be wide, frightened. I know because I can see that fear etched on Lumen's face in excitement.

"Who are you? What are you doing?" he whispers, his voice trembling. She leans close to him.

"I am revenge. I am Tina Medway and Rebecca Joyce and Terry Hardy and Billie Dudley and Sophie Marks and Judy King and Jessica Daniels." She recites, pointing in turn to each photo of a smiling girl. Daniels begins to shake. He realises he's been found out. So, of course, he lies.

"Who? I don't know those girls." He begins to whine but then Lumen's hands are on his cheeks, I see her muscles tense as she squeezes his jaw. Without warning my mind flashes to the same muscles flexing as she grabs the sheets of my bed, her body arching up under me. I bite my lip and squirm against the cold floor, desire and longing biting into me hard.

She turns and picks up something from the bed, something that has lain beside the large carving knife which I cannot bring myself to think about for fear I might give myself away.

She picks it up and moves back to the table, positioning herself behind his head, she looks down at him and smiles.

"You don't have to be sorry now," she says softly as she brings down her hand and I see what she is holding. It is the small pearl handled knife which I bought for her on the market, the night before we killed Chase. This small indication of her feelings pushes me further to the edge. Watching her kill was always a turn on, watching her like this, forbidden and voyeuristically is almost too much. My blood pounds in my ears as she bends and I imagine I hear the slice of the blade into skin as Daniels hisses through his teeth. Lumen is smiling, intent on her work, as she picks up the slide from the table and smears her blade across the glass. It is the same ritual as my own, adapted to suit her personality. She doesn't need the science of the pipette to catch the blood; she isn't a member of Miami Metro's geek squad. She is a wronged woman. A dangerous woman.

"You've not got any time left to be sorry." He moans and thrashes and it's how I feel too. His expression one of fear, mine of desire.

She holds the slide up to the light, it comes between us as I look up at her, realising the appropriateness of my submissive posture on the floor as I watch her coming into herself like a goddess, a red goddess. Lumen blooms before me as she takes the carving knife.

My heart is racing, the tension in my muscles almost holding me off the floor and I have to move to accommodate the tremendous pressure of the blood surging in my groin. Lumen climbs onto the table, my ears are ringing and I can see her chest rise and fall with the excitement of the moment. Daniels is making mewling noises and I am glad because I cannot help but moan as I see her swing her leg over him and position herself straddled over his lower chest. If it wasn't for the knife in her hand, this would look like a scene from a bondage porn movie. Her tight shorts cut into the muscles of her thighs, the smooth curve of the flesh pushed up under the sharp hem. The plastic apron taut across her breasts, riding up at the front so she can get her legs wide over him. Under it I can see the cropped shirt high over her navel, the soft round of her belly, the dip down to her hipbones sear though me as I remember my hands over that velvet skin, my tongue. Her breasts heave and I watch the friction of them against the fabric of her shirt and my hands grip the floor. Her face flushes, pupils wide and aroused as she holds the knife above her head, the angle and the arc perfect for the target of his heart. Time seems to spin out, lost and sweetly painful, as she kneels over him panting and biting her lip hard.

I watch her gloved hands flex over the handle of the blade and the image of those fingers on my body comes to me unbidden. I almost feel her hot hands on that part of me which is pressed tightly against the floor, as though I can squeeze the mounting pressure I am feeling out of my skin.

Her arm swings down and the tension is unbearable. I feel myself grinning fiercely and I see my expression copied on her face. Involuntarily my hips move against the floor. Lumen's mouth is open as the tip of the knife penetrates his body.

"Dexter." She says it once, gasping and lost in the moment, how I have heard her say it before, under me, over me, her body as open as she has now made Daniel's. I want to close my eyes against the onslaught of sensuality but I can't avoid seeing the blood welling from him, spilling out of him like release as she gasps over him, looking down, her hair sticking to her face with perspiration.

Together we ride this wave of pleasure. The body of Bryan Daniels thrashes between us like a surrogate for our lust, like a puppet moved by our desires. I hear his last breath and watch Lumen's body shuddering as she accepts his death, the gift his departing spirit submits to her. She falls forward, hands either side of his head, the image is too intensely erotic for me to bear. I have to go. One more glance at her sweat sheened body, vest clinging to her skin, ribcage heaving in her excitement and I will be undone. The animal will break his bounds and there will be no turning back. The sharp spur of rejection gets me silently off the floor while she relishes the afterglow of her kill and I make myself leave.

Outside I lean against the wall and try to calm myself enough to walk. My legs are like jelly and my erection feels like it has stolen all my energy. It pounds at me, relentless and demanding. I can't go out into the street like this.

I am just deciding what to do, how to deal with the roadblock my body has thrown at me when I hear a noise through the bathroom window. It is Lumen and she is talking to herself, whispering fiercely in the darkness. Why isn't she cleaning up? Why has she left the body cooling on the plastic wrapped table? I strain to hear her words.

"Oh for god's sake. Fuck." She swears and I smile at first and then panic when I think she might have found something to indicate that I have been there, lying on the floor watching her kill and going out of my mind with lust. She speaks again, my bright angel.

"Ridiculous, just ridiculous. Right, ok then." She sounds exasperated, then determined. Her voice is still breathy and then I hear a sound which makes my heart stop beating. The sound of the zip of her shorts being pulled down and a soft moan. What is she doing in there? My brain can't figure it out then my cock does and it invokes an image of Lumen's hands, long fingers slipping under the open waistband of her jean shorts and under the cotton of her panties. I stifle my own moan, my hands move to my waist, smoothing flat against my stomach. Surely I am wrong? Surely she isn't taking time from clearing up her kill to make herself come? The knowledge that this makes her feel as strongly as I do is overwhelmingly erotic.

"Oh god, Dexter." The words freeze me in place, all of me is utterly still except my hand which takes this opportunity of stunned silence to push into my trousers and take a hold of my painfully hard erection. "Oh, oh." She breathes the sound out, faint but it burns into me like the words will be imprinted on my skin.

There is a sliding sound, a thump and I imagine her sitting now on the floor, her fingers moving against her, into her. I stroke along my length with the movement which my body begins to recognise as belonging to Lumen. I can hear her breathing, jagged and hitching, and the small moans she makes and my fingers work with her, almost as though there is a line between us. Her movements elicit my own.

A small thudding noise, her feet jerking against the floor as a low growl builds in her chest begins to send me towards the edge. The pressure building in this alleyway feels like it could power a small nuclear device.

"Oh god, Dexter, Dexter!" she hisses and I spill over my fingers, deaf to everything but her voice.

"Lumen." I murmur, my breath hard and burning in my chest, my legs trembling. For a moment there is silence between us. Then I hear her scrambling to her feet, I look up and fingers appear on the window ledge. I panic, will my legs to not let me down and I run. I don't look back until I am three blocks away, my body protesting against the sudden surge from post orgasmic lull to frenzied escape.

I bend, hands on knees dragging air into my lungs for a moment of two. Absentmindedly I wipe my hand on my khakis and bite the side of my lip. What is she doing?

"Well, that's obvious, she's killing again," I jump as Harry leans against the wall of the nearest building, his arms folded, his foot against the bricks. I nod. "But what was all that?" he jerks his head back the way I have run. "There, in the bathroom?" he raises his eyebrows and then looks down the street as though he is embarrassed. I look at my feet, eyes sliding from the stain on my trousers guiltily. This is not the time for the 'birds and the bees' talk. Especially since the insects and avians in question are pretty fucked up.

But he's right. What was that back there? I don't have a problem understanding that killing makes her feel that way. It would be hypocritical of me to assume any such thing; I know my own reaction to taking a life, the release, the dreadful building of tension until my knife opens a body. The metaphor is hard to ignore. But she said my name. She said my name with her fingers touching herself. As she came she was thinking of me. The thought rocks me more than anything that has happened tonight. I look up, Harry is watching me.

"She still wants you, Dexter." His simple sentence hits me like a truck. I feel my stomach clench, adrenaline floods my system, makes me feel like I could walk on air, run faster than I ever have before. I find myself grinning widely, my cheeks hurting in my glee. "What are you going to do now?"

I pause. I don't know the answer to his question. If she wants me then why hasn't she come to find me? She knows where I am, where I'll be. It's then I remember the woman watching me drinking my beer on the balcony, at the wall of the parking lot, on the beach. Is Lumen watching me? Why would she do that? Why not just speak to me, call me, tell me she's back in town?

I decide I have to go back. I have to find out where she's staying. She must be somewhere in the city if she's hunting here. I start to walk back to the motel, glancing at my watch and knowing she will still be clearing up. The image of her cutting up Daniels sends a tremble through me. But she's back; she came back, I smile as I pad along the dark street.

**VB is a gem for betaing. Thanks if you reviewed so far. It makes ff less lonely when I know what you think If you're going to just favourite me as an author or the story alert, please consider sending me a quick line. I need to know what I'm doing right. I'm super critical of myself and it seems that Dexfans are critical too. Eek. Bad combo, feeling a bit paranoid. Cx**


	5. Destroying Evidence

It's a dark night but in my head the lights are on. I can almost feel the synapses firing as I walk carefully back to the motel. Initial elation has subsided now and I cannot help but wonder why she hasn't contacted me already. Her actions in the motel, killing Daniels, I correct my euphemism and smile, seem to indicate that her Dark Passenger is back for good. And the other thing, the reaction she had to the killing? The calling my name as she comes over her hands? I feel my heart pounding but my brain doesn't even try to give me an answer. I'm out of my depth; this is not my field of expertise.

The moon scuds behind clouds as I try to unknot the tangle of my sex life. First there was Rita, gentle, damaged Rita. That first time was a shock to us both I think. For her, shock that she wanted to do that again with a man after the way Paul had treated her, for me shock that it wasn't so bad after all. I had urges, we're all animals after all, but satisfying those urges had just seemed like an easy way to get caught out. Too many slippery permutations, what you're supposed to say, what you're supposed to think, fantasise about. Too complicated, messy.

The perfect word for Lila, messy. I stop on the street, look up at the moon. For the briefest of moments Lila set me free. I have a sudden flash of pushing her forward onto the bed, not sure if I was going to kill her or fuck her. Angry, in too deep, hands on her rear, tugging at her panties, her voice as she whispers for me to succumb to my dark impulses, to 'fuck her like that'. I shudder, close my eyes. Yes, the animal was definitely out of its cage for those few days, weeks.

"And look where that got you." Harry keeps pace with me along the road. I glance at him and nod. He's right, look where it took me. Paris and killing the woman with whom I had shared this extraordinary bodily relationship. Can this ever go right for me? Should I just turn back now?

"She's not Rita, or Lila." Harry stops to look at me and I stop too. I close my eyes and my life seems a terrible confusion, what happened to the neat compartments, parts of me boxed up, separate? I know the answer. Life happened, Dexter. "It's what people do Dex, they evolve, develop. It's a good sign." I open my eyes but Harry is gone and I wonder again, do I want to be normal when it hurts so much, is so tormenting? My feet move me forwards so I guess there's my answer.

As I approach the motel I have a more pressing question than the development of my character, after all isn't this always what I wanted? To be a real boy? The real question I should be asking is how is she going to get rid of the body? She doesn't have a boat and I've tried to ponder this predicament before, when my old playmates started to surface and the 'Bay Harbour Butcher' fiasco started.

I slow my steps as I see her struggling out of the motel with a bag, a heavy black garbage bag. She drags it to a beat up old station wagon which she seems to have chosen for its impressive storage rather than its aesthetic appeal. I flatten back against the wall and, when she goes back inside, I slip around a corner, sheltered from her sight by the thick trunk of a palm.

She comes back with two, much smaller bags, leaving me to surmise that she realised too late that she needs to cut him up into smaller pieces to make him manoeuvrable. I appreciate the problem. Less bags means less clean up, more time to tidy away evidence and reduces the chance of being noticed. Smaller bags are more manageable, more easily stowed in the trunk of your car. Ah, Serial Killing 101.

In a remarkably quick time she cleans up. I see her heft the heavy plastic sheeting, neatly folded, into the trunk and pack it securely around the black bags. She goes back into the motel room with a spray bottle and a torch. Not Luminol? But then I hear the tell tale, familiar swoosh of the bottle and the reflection of the black light in the doorway. I'm impressed. She's thorough.

When she is satisfied she comes outside and stands for a moment, looking up at the moon. I realise that, if I'm going to follow her I'll have to act quickly, she has a car and I am on foot. There's only one way out of the motel complex so she can't be going by any other route. I leave her still staring at the moon, tempting though it is to watch her, drink her in, and I wait by the exit of the parking lot. This part of town is mainly industrial; it'd be my choice of dump spot if I didn't have 'Slice of Life'.

Sure enough it's only about five minutes until she drives slowly by, her window is down a little and through it I can hear the radio. Her elbow is on the window edge and she looks relaxed, calm. She glances briefly in my direction before indicating left and driving down a side road which leads to a nasty part of town. Nothing down here but a car wrecker's yard, a meat packing company, a slaughterhouse and a glue factory. Suddenly I begin to see her thinking.

I jog down the alley, carefully keeping to the walls though I doubt she will be looking to be followed. If she's going to make a slip it will be now, when the adrenaline is high and the rush of getting away with it is in her veins. I watch her pile the plastic sheeting up with the other clear folded sheets outside the slaughterhouse. She shoves them under the new discarded packing, inconspicuous from the rest of the stuff they use to pack up the bodies of the horses, cows and pigs they slaughter. Unless someone comes looking, armed with a forensic team to separate the blood types then she's safe with that. But what about the body parts?

She goes back to the car and comes back with a scarf around her lower face. She looks like a vigilante and the word brings back to me Deb's romantic description of what we were doing when we killed Jordan Chase. What did she call us? Beautiful. I close my eyes briefly and hope that this is a new beginning for us. Watching her heaving those bags to a large metal container in the yard I am tempted to break from my hiding place and help her but I remind myself that, if she wanted help, she could have contacted me before. And I have to admit that, watching her work like this, methodical, precise, is fascinating.

She tries to open the lid of the vat but she's not tall enough. She scans the moonlit yard; the silver light makes everything seem magical, even in this grim part of town. Eventually I see her sigh and she drives the car over to the side of the huge metal bucket. She climbs onto the roof and flips the heavy cover. She pulls her head back and covers her hand with her mouth. What's in there? She takes the bags and empties them into the vat. It's not a clean job; she throws the empty bags down as the slippery contents drop into the bucket with a sickening squelch. Eventually, all the bags are empty and she carefully reseals the vat.

She jumps down and carries the bags to a metal brazier, fallen on its side, firewood spilling from its innards and not used since the winter. She rights the canister and pushes it out of sight of the road. I watch as she tips lighter fluid onto the wood, lights a match and crams the bags inside it. Then she takes off her clothes.

The apron is with the bags already but now the shoes, the tiny shorts, her vest top, bra and panties all go into the fire. She stands in its faint glow, the moonlight silver and the flames golden on her skin and she stretches tall, clasping her hands and pulling at her arms to alleviate the stiffness of her joints or just to revel in her release, I cannot tell. For what seems like an age I watch her, taking in the smooth curves of her figure, the dark shadows and silver scars which have healed so much more than when I last saw them. The thought makes me feel something, something I recognise as sadness. She is healing, without me.

Eventually she looks to see the fire dimming, the plastic melted and the clothes reduced to ash which starts to spill out of the holes of the brazier. When there are no more flames, only red smouldering, she tips a litre bottle of water over the ashes, sluicing the remains onto the yard floor where they follow the camber of the concrete down the massive blood and fluid drainage outlet.

She goes back to the car and puts back on the hooded sweatshirt, the dark trousers, the sneakers she was wearing at the club. Then she drives away. She drives east, into the city but I can't follow her now. I hastily note the license plate of the station wagon. As I am about to leave, the sound of her engine dying in the distance fills me with sorrow, I notice something on the ground where she was parked. It is a glove, a black leather glove. I push it in my pocket.

I wander back to the road, enthralled by what I have just seen. It's like being in a trance as I walk back to the club, I'm floating on air. This is how first dates are supposed to feel, the first time you kiss, not the first time you see her kill a man without your help. What can I say? I am wrong on the inside.

As I approach the noise and bustle of the club I decide to go home instead of finding Masuka and Batista. Let them think I took that girl home, let them think they helped me, got me laid and drunk or whatever it was that they thought would sort me out. It might keep them off my back for a while.

I take a cab most of the way home and then tell the driver to pull over, I need to think and the Miami moonlight seems too beautiful to miss tonight. Adrenaline is still tickling at my nerves and my brain is full of questions. The driver tells me in Spanish to go safely and I nod, knowing I am more than a match for the monsters out there in the soft night.

The roads are nearly empty but for the occasional cab or truck, sweeping its way along the roads as I saunter the last mile home. Everywhere seems luminous, lit from the inside by some magic and I wonder if this is the light or the things I have seen this evening. I play it all back in my head, slowing down and relishing the best parts. The knife going in, her legs across his body, the plastic sticking to her abdomen, the sounds coming from the bathroom, her saying my name. I want to record that sound, play it to myself over and over. Dexter, oh god, Dexter. I feel my stomach muscles clench.

I take the glove out of my pocket and, even though I know it is a cliché, a scene from a romantic movie in which I will never star, I hold it to my face and breathe in. It smells of leather, Lumen and blood. The perfume seems almost tailored to my own peculiar vices and I feel its reaction on the blood in my veins.

Why hasn't she contacted me? If it has been her watching me at the beach, my apartment, then why hasn't she comes forward, called me? Why is she watching me if she doesn't care? A slow chill falls over me. Am I being hunted? After all, I fit my own code.

The thought stops me in my tracks. Involuntarily I turn around and check the sidewalk. Nothing. She could have had me by now, if she'd wanted me. The words go around my head and I can't avoid the double meaning.

Back at my apartment I log on to the site I use to track license plates, it's more anonymous than the police records or any of the other state resources which can do the same job. I tap the numbers and letters into the search box and press 'go'. While it's working I grab a beer from the fridge and find myself checking the window, prising the blinds apart, peering into the pale moonlight. Nothing.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. It's a text from Masuka.

"Hey dude, give her one for me." I shake my head; at least I don't have to come up with an alibi for where I went tonight, Vince has one already fleshed out in his head. Great. The next beep is a text from Angel.

"Hope you're ok, amigo. Let me know when you're coming to pick up the kids. See you for breakfast?" They're good men, in their own ways. What would they think if they knew I had spent the evening watching my old girlfriend kill a man and cut him up? The idea makes me smile; I'm so used to this double life now it seems like normality.

The laptop makes a noise to tell me that the search is up. The car was sold two weeks ago to an Elle Wright, her address is listed as being in the local area, a block of apartments made up from the shell of an old Art Deco cinema they converted back in the 80s. I write the address on a notepad even though I know I will remember it. It's too important to forget.

I go out onto the balcony and lean on my elbows on the railing, sipping my beer and listening to the pool water sloshing in the silver light. I take a deep breath, trying to find some cohesion in what I have witnessed tonight. More than ever a war is waging inside me, the petty skirmishes of infighting I have felt over the last few weeks has now given way to a full scale assault. On one side the new Dexter, a man, not a monster. A man shaped by extraordinary circumstances into something new, something almost normal if it wasn't for the urge to kill. But even that urge has some justification now. What I am is what I have been forced to become, Lumen showed me this.

The other army is populated with the old me, shuffling ranks of monsters in gloves, carrying donuts as a disguise. Their creed is that I am not like anyone else, not human, incapable of genuine, authentic emotion. Their ranks have dwindled, picked off by Rita, Cody, Astor, Deb and Harrison. And now Lumen. But they're still fighting and their new secret weapon, wheeled out from under its tarpaulin of darkness, is my insecurity, the opposing army's weakest spot.

It's like the new me isn't strong enough yet, hasn't had that nurturing, the support and guidance that the old me got from Harry. There's no outside help for the new me, Rita's gone, Deb doesn't know, Lumen left. It's demoralising, destructive, to the embryonic Dexter, growing into the light out of the darkness I've always known. Who can help him?

Maybe this is one of those times I can use a metaphor, try to get some help by talking around my subject, playing an 'as if' game with my conversation partner to try to glean some nugget of truth from the subterfuge. I get out my phone and call Deb. She's going to love it that I'm asking for relationship help.

"What? Do you know what fucking time it is, retard?" Ah, I didn't think about the time. Deb's at Quinn's and I figure it's his voice I can hear complaining in the back ground.

"Hi Deb," I say brightly. "It's three thirty in the morning, but I needed to talk." That gets her; I can almost see her sitting up in bed, brushing away Quinn's hand as she focuses on the phenomenon that is her older brother wanting to have a conversation. Bizarre as the early morning/late night phone call seems it appears this is the most normal thing I could have done. I'll never get it right, I shake my head.

"Talk? Dex, you ok? What's going on? You never fucking talk! You're like one big silent motherfucker. What's happened?" I let the anguish, the confusion show in my voice and it's a relief not to be hiding.

"It's Lumen, me, god. I don't know, can I come over?" she mumbles something to Quinn and then she's back.

"Meet you at the all night coffee place near the station? It's between your place and m... here." She was going to say 'mine', admitting she's living with Quinn. She stopped herself; I'm not the only Morgan with insecurity issues about relationships.

"Ok, how long? A half hour?"

"Yeah, and Dexter, this better be a fucking catastrophe. If this is about bowling... you're dead, fucker." I hear the smile in her voice even though she's still cursing at me. I grin, a small light in the darkness.

"I'll see you there." I fold the phone, grab my wallet and leave.

**So, what can Dexter actually tell Deb? **

**Thanks so much to VB for beta skills not skewed to the Darkside! And thanks for all the reviews you've written, it really makes this more fun when it's interactive! Let me know what you think so far! Cx**


	6. The Talk

The SUV is still at Batista's so I catch another cab to the coffee place. It occurs to me how anonymous cab rides are, not much to really trace you, not like driving your own car. Much more anonymous than a rental. No one checks your ID, the drivers barely look at you, they're more interested in the radio; the other drivers on the road, bitching about celebrities on the TV if they talk to you at all. I like it.

Deb arrives a few minutes after me, swinging into the booth and flinging her bag into the corner like it's done her some wrong. She grins; despite the ridiculous hour she is glad to see me. It would be heart warming if I had a heart in the regular sense. That's why you're here, a dark voice reminds me.

"So, brother dearest, what the fuck is going on? I thought you were out with Angel and Masuka? They ditch you? You ditch them?" She asks a lot of questions and doesn't wait for answers, instead waving over the waitress and ordering for us both. I nod and smile as the pretty young girl takes our order, thankful that she is not a blonde for once.

"Well? Are you going to just sit there?" Deb raises an eyebrow, slides herself sideways and props her chin on her elbow, one leg on the seat. I sigh; maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all? I rub my hands on my face and say nothing. She grabs my hand and pulls it away.

"Uh uh." She says shaking her head and frowning. "There's no fucking way you drag my ass out of bed at some crazy fucking o'clock and then don't say a word, Dex. Spill. Now." She folds her arms, ever the tough girl, the tomboy. I purse my lips and look out of the window, trying to unscramble my thoughts, disguise them in enough normality to make this work. "Dexter." She drags the last syllable out like a petulant child, like a threat. I grimace, open my mouth, close it again. She slams her open palm on the table. Some old guys drinking at the end of the counter, watching the late night film look over. I shrug at them apologetically. They turn away.

"Ok Deb, no need to draw everyone's attention. It's just... difficult. For me, difficult for me to talk about, you know how I am."

"Yeah, you're a fucking idiot who walks around pretending he doesn't feel anything and it was going to bite you on the ass one day. So, today the day then Dex?" I nod. She nods too, though I know she has no idea what this is about. "So?" she waves a hand. I take a breath.

"Lumen," I say the name out loud and something occurs to me. "Lumen, how does Angel know about Lumen?" My eyebrows knotted I sit forward at the table looking right at her. This has only just occurred to me now; the only person who knew about Lumen was Deb. Did I even mention her name? Deb sighs, picks her nails and looks away from me. "Deb?" I ask, aware that the questions are on my side of the table now.

"Yeah, right. Well, I might have mentioned your 'tenant'," she does air quotes with her fingers, who does that anymore? "To Angel. He was worried about his friend Dex, we all were. I just said you seemed to be on the road to some closure. You know, with your 'tenant'." I glare at her, she laughs.

"He said she was hot. Why would he say that, Deb?" Deb looks away again and I tap the table to get her attention. She looks back at me, avoiding my gaze by looking at my left ear, I scratch it idly and she grins.

"Ok, so I asked Angel to check her out. He just met her at the grocery store near your old house, got talking to her. Nothing sinister, I swear." She looks in my eyes now. Lumen spoke to Angel? She never mentioned it. But then, why would she? She's skittish of men but not one to avoid conversation, seem strange or unusual. She learnt that from me, I guess.

"What did they talk about?" I am interested in this event that has happened outside of my knowledge. Like knowing this little thing brings me nearer to her, more a part of her life.

"Hey, I dunno, I never asked. He said she seemed nice. The weather, baseball, some shit. I dunno Dex. What is this about? Has Angel done something? Said something?" She looks worried, leaning on the table now with her elbows, cradling her coffee cup. I shake my head. This is irrelevant, a distraction.

"No, nothing like that, he just mentioned her and I wondered how he knew... knew we were..." I trail off because technically, at the time he met her, Lumen and I were not a couple.

"Fucking?" Deb asks helpfully. I frown, shake my head, then nod, then shrug, she laughs. "Jesus, Dex, you are seriously fucked up bro. What is going on up there?" She leans over and taps my head. It actually hurts. I wince and rub my temple and she laughs again, sits back in her seat. "So, like I said. Spill."

"Ok." I take a deep breath, drink some coffee. "When you met her at the house, Rita's house, she was just my tenant Deb." I hold up a hand as she snorts and shakes her head, no doubt about to call me on some bullshit. "No, really. Right then she was my tenant and I was helping her with some problems she had. I suppose I thought it might make me feel better about what happened to Rita." I sigh, this is actually helping. God, what is happening to me? Deb puts her hand over mine, misunderstanding my sigh. I carry on.

"But then, well, I started to have feelings... for her. I didn't say anything, I didn't want to push anything, she had some stuff of her own to deal with but I knew that I was investing more in our relationship than just..." co murderers? Partners in crime? Serial killer sidekicks?

"Tenant and landlord?" Deb offers, I nod. "So, did you tell her?"

"Not really." I stop, thinking back to that night after Cole Harmon, how she took off her shirt, kissed me. I stop, paralysed by the memory. Deb touches my hand again. I look at our hands, hers are small and long fingered, mine blunt, square nails and wide palms. "She made the first move, I was too..." Scared? Insecure? Fucked up about sex? All of the above?

"Caring." Deb says, stroking my hand with her thumb. I can hear the smile in her voice. I shrug. "And then...?"

"So, we were... together, I suppose." There's no suppose about it really. I gave her everything I had, showed her all of me, my Dark Passenger, the father I am, the lover.

"And you helped her get her shit sorted and then she left, right?" I look up at Deb, eyes wide, mouth open.

"How did you? How can you know...?" she smiles and it's a sad smile.

"Because I've been her, bro. I've been the girl who gets helped out and then has to leave. Look... sometimes it's not that you want to go..." I grab Deb's hand and she winces, I let go.

"She said that! She said she didn't want to go but... she had to. She said she was different now, now there wasn't the problem anymore." I take a deep breath, this is actually making me feel better, just the look of understanding on Deb's face is making me feel normal, accepted.

"And now?" Deb's voice is gentle.

"And now I can't stop thinking about her. I dream about her, I think I see her everywhere, at the beach, tonight at the club..." I rub my hand over my face. "I thought I saw her tonight. I followed her, it was her Deb. It was her."

"Did you speak to her Dex?" I shake my head and Deb sighs. "Why not?"

"She was busy..." Busy killing a man. Busy killing a man and chopping him up into tiny pieces and disposing of the body. The memory sears through me. Deb nods. I fight the urge to laugh hysterically.

"And you're scared too, huh?" She says softly and I bite my lip, look out of the window and nod.

"I think she was looking for me, at the club." I say, aware only as the words leave my mouth that they are true. She was looking for me, she was in the car following us from Batista's house. She followed me there.

"So why did she leave when she saw you? Why not come over and talk to you?" I shake my head, I don't know. Deb's voice becomes sharper. "What were you doing right when she saw you Dex? Right before she left the club, what were you doing?" I wince as I remember. Oh god.

"I was kissing a girl." Deb lets go of my hands.

"God damn Dexter! God fucking damn! All you men! Cocksuckers! Even my own brother is a fucking dog!" She sits back, the old men are looking again. I lean across the table and hiss.

"I thought she'd gone forever, that she didn't want me! I didn't mean to kiss that girl..." I shake my head as a look of utter scorn and derision crosses Deb's face and I carry on before she can bite my head off. "I had a drink, I don't know, she reminded me of Lumen, I wanted to just forget, for a minute... a fucking minute." I put my head in my hands and growl my frustration. When I look up Deb looks shocked. She puts out her hands again.

"Jesus. Dex, you are a mess, dude." I nod, raising an eyebrow to show her that this is not a profound insight, that my mental state is obvious, even to me. She frowns.

"Do you know where she's staying? Why she came back, even?" I shake my head. She could be killing anywhere, every city in America has bad guys, she doesn't have to be here. The thought had not occurred to me. Suddenly I feel hopeful.

"No, I have no idea. But she followed me to the club. And I think I've seen her around outside the apartment." Deb is thinking, her mouth twisted up that way it does when she is piecing things together like the born cop she is. She nods to herself.

"She must be thinking about you, Dex." I nod, yep, she was thinking of me tonight alright. Thinking about me while she made herself come, calling out my name even though she didn't know I was there. Deb frowns and cocks her head. I open my eyes wide, what did she just see in my expression?

"Dex, fuck, I can't believe I'm going to say this but...this isn't just a sex thing is it? This is not just about the pussy Dex?" I shake my head, and grimace, how can she even say that? Then I rub my hand over my eyes.

"It's not just about the..." I can't say that word. I murder people and I can't say that word. I stab them with a six inch carving knife and I cannot use the colloquial term for female genitalia. My little sister can though.

"The pussy, Dex. So it's not just about that. But it is about that too huh?" I bite my lip and nod. Are we really talking about this? There've been a couple of times since we grew up where Deb has given me too much information for my liking. Too much graphic detail about the 'big time fucking' she has been doing with a new man, or an old man if you count Special Agent Lundy. I've always avoided this kind of talk with her but it seems we're having that talk now. I sigh.

"And?" she prompts. I open my hands, what does she want me to say? That I am dreaming about Lumen's body, waking with a hard on so determined that I have to take matters into my own hands to make it go away? That I watched her kill a man and then I had to jerk off because I was so turned on? I shake my head, she sighs. "Is this like that titty English bitch?" She asks, frowning and then smirking. Lila. She means Lila. I shake my head.

"No, kind of... no." She nods sarcastically.

"Oh well, that's clear then." She says, raising an eyebrow. I grit my teeth and sigh. Why is this so hard? My skill set is seriously skewed to the Dark Side.

"It..." I begin and she looks interested. I tear my eyes from her gaze and look at the table. "I... I can't do this." I say finally. She sighs, shakes her head.

"Look, Dexter Morgan. This is the first proper conversation we've had since Rita." She pauses to gauge my reaction, I don't look up and she ploughs on. "The first time you've ever opened up to me, god damn, I actually feel like I'm helping you for once. Which is a fucking change from the usual situation. So," she leans forward and grabs my hands, I don't pull them away. "So, what is going on? This chick has got you rattled? All over?" Her eyes drop to the table top and beyond and I know what she's implying and I nod and sigh, filling my lungs with air and exhaling it noisily, feeling the muscles in my beck, my chest relax. I can do this. I will do this.

"Rita was the first woman, in a long time." I add hastily, seeing Deb's eyebrows hitting her hairline and prompting some comment about my virginity. She nods. "And I guess at first I didn't like the closeness, the intimacy." Deb sips her coffee looking at me like she can't believe we're talking about this, neither can I but this might help and something's got to help.

"And that was fine, good even, for a long time. And then I met Lila." Deb rolls her eyes. Yes, she thinks Lila is a slut. She's wrong, Lila's dead, but Deb doesn't know that. "And Lila was, less... inhibited than Rita."

"Dex, that bitch was more uninhibited than a whole busload of nymphos. Man!" She shakes her head in disgust. I tighten my grip on her hands.

"Yes, yes, she was, but can you imagine how that feels? When someone that... in touch with their body, that instinctive, wants you?" I rub my hands over my face. I know that this is something beyond the relationship Deb and I have, hell, beyond the relationship I have with anyone, but I need her to understand. I need her to know what I mean, connect with this, because it's my only chance to work out what the hell is going on. I know I am giving things away with my eyes but I can't stop now. "Can you imagine that Deb?" Deb is wide eyed but she nods slowly and I realise that I am lying. That it wasn't about the fact that Lila was so open, so wild. That wasn't the thing that made her, for a while, my new addiction. It's that she saw that wildness in me, she glimpsed the monster in a way that no one had until I met Lumen. And she still wanted me. I carry on talking, not wanting to lead Deb away from the truth but knowing that I can never really tell her all of this.

"It was amazing, liberation from all the shit we're told to do, say, want. But it wasn't real, it wasn't based in anything but jealousy, some kind of twisted version of affection." I can feel Deb's eyes on me, we're in our own little bubble of this conversation. The waitress starts to move to our table, coffee jug in her hands, but she picks up on our vibe and goes back behind the counter.

"I didn't think you cared about Lila, I thought she was just an ego fuck, you know. The thing men do when it looks like life might settle down." I look at her, she's right. How could she know what Lila did to me, the part of me she accepted? Even though in the end I had to kill her, Deb has no idea how important she was in making the man I have become. I shake my head. I can't say these things.

"And with Lumen? Why has she got you so fucked up, Dexter?" Deb's fingers tighten on my hand.

"Because it was the most real thing I've experienced Deb. Next to Harrison's birth, being with her was the thing that made me think I belonged to someone." There, I've said it, spun this thread out to the end.

"So it wasn't scary like it was with Rita but it wasn't... fucked up shit like it was with Lila?" In her own way Deb sums it up perfectly. I nod. "You wanted the same things?" I don't know if we're talking about sex anymore but I nod.

"You had the same fantasies? Needs?" Deb is biting the side of her lip but it's not with amusement, she's being serious. She doesn't know how right she is. I nod again, she blows out a breath. "Whoa Dex, that's fucking deep." I nod again. No one speaks for a while.

"Do you think it was mutual?" She asks eventually, I shrug.

"I thought so but..." Deb sits back her hand still on mine. She is nodding slowly.

"You need to find her and speak to her Dex. This won't get resolved sitting here talking to me, although I gotta say Dex I am fucking impressed with that opening up shit you just pulled. Blown a-fucking - way." She cocks her head to the side and nods, she looks impressed. I frown at the table top.

"What?" she grabs my hands again. "No, seriously Dex, that was more of you than I think I have ever seen in my life. I think this girl's good for you. You need to go see her." I fall back in my seat sighing.

"How can I? If she wanted to see me then she would have talked to me? Wouldn't she?" Deb looks across the room, stretches her arms, the posture reminds me of Lumen.

"I don't know Dex, this is why you've got to talk to her. Maybe she was going to talk to you at the club? But she saw you with that chick and... I've gotta say bro, I would not be happy if I was her." I nod, I wouldn't be happy either. I'm not happy.

"So, you think I should try to find her?" she nods, waves the waitress over who smiles and refills our cups.

"Yeah, yeah I do. Let me know if you want some help with that." We drink our coffee in comfortable silence. I look out of the window, Miami is waking up, the sun casting pink and orange light onto the windows or the buildings opposite the coffee shop.

The early shift cops are leaving the station, I see some folks I know getting into their cars and wearily heading home. I check my watch, I've got a couple of hours before I have to pick up the kids. Maybe I'll walk by Lumen's apartment building?

Suddenly Deb is chuckling to herself, I look up and frown.

"What?" I ask, finishing my coffee, looking at her over the rim of the cup. She shakes her head.

"Come on, what?" I prod her with a finger in the ribs, she squeals.

"Dexter Morgan, did you just tell me you're into kinky shit?" I shake my head. More than you know little sister, more than you know.

**So I 'd love to know how I did with Deb. I spent a long time (for me) thinking about what Dex would and wouldn't say and I think I got it right ofr my boy. He wants to change, anyone who sees the show and says he doesn't want to be a real boy is needing to read some Potter where no one changes! :D imho!**

**Ok, you lot have been super lovely so far, thanks for the reviews, they really do make me faster and better! Thank you Cx**


	7. Stalker

I don't know this part of town too well and I only recognised the name of the apartment building because Angel and Quinn were arguing about when it closed down, how small independent cinemas were better than the big multiplexes. I wasn't really listening at the time, too busy working out the angle of impact on a crime scene photo that Masuka had messed up, to really pay attention to their squabbling. Now I'm here I can see what Angel meant when he said the building was a work of art, something 'hermoso'. Beautiful.

The white walls are rounded like the curves of a woman's hips and the thick stucco is so smooth it makes me want to touch. The angled wooden panels along the sides of the semi circle of steps leading to the doors are polished and shine like chestnuts. The doors themselves are work of art in their leaded triangles, blue and black, reflecting the morning sun in a startling display of colour. The building is shaped like an old fashioned telephone receiver and its arms welcome the newcomer. The windows, their three paned oblongs glittering in the first light are wide, spacious. The place has an old fashioned sense of beauty and protection. I can see why she wants to live here.

I sit on the bench outside, a little off to the side of the steps and out of sight from the windows unless you stand on the balcony and look right down on the top of my head. I sit here and I know she is nearby. Somewhere in my head Andy Williams sings 'On the Street Where you Live' and I smile to myself, has my life really become a musical? It makes a change from the usual gore fest. Though I like that too.

I'm still shocked by my conversation with Deb. Ok, so she didn't believe me at all when I tried to tell her that my dark desires were not about whips and rubber, but when I saw where the conversation was headed, what she might ask at any moment, I let her think what she liked. I could see it amused her. I'm glad someone's having a good time, even if it is at my expense.

Around the back of the building is the underground parking lot, not big enough now to accommodate the cars of modern cinema goers it's just big enough for residents of the apartments it now houses. For a moment I look up at the building and wonder how Lumen is affording to rent this place. Has she got a job? I stand for a moment realising she never told me what she did, how she earned a living. For a fleeting moment it makes me feel sad. This is the nearest I have had to a normal relationship, one where I could know everything and be known, and I don't even know what she did every day, before those men took her. I squint into the early sun, hoping that the light will burn this dark thought away.

Inside the underground parking lot it is still cool, the heat of the day not yet at its full strength and the concrete insulating the chill. There is no one watching the cars, maybe there is some surveillance but I glance around and I don't see any cameras. It's unusual, it shows that the people in this building trust each other, the outside world. I'm not sure how wise is their trust in society.

Some of the cars here are vintage models, lovingly restored and cherished and then there are other old cars too. These ones driven by the sort of people who see a car as a necessary item but not something on which to spend a particular amount of time or money. Lumen's car fits in to this category. Its beige metal work partnered with that wood veneer look so popular in the 70s. It's probably older than she is. I smile and stroke my hand across the hood. It's wet. I smell the soap on my hands and I know that, in the time I have been talking to Deb, Lumen has been washing her car. Clever girl.

From the looks of what I can see of the interior, the back windows have been amateurishly blacked out so I have to peer through the windscreen to really see inside the car, she's cleaned the interior too. There's no carpet in the trunk. She knows it's harder to get clean than the metal bodywork, even so she's got some kind of plastic board in there which looks like it can be removed if she needs to tidy up. I bite my lip, I'm impressed.

I scan the car for little signs of her life. There is a box of tissues on the passenger seat, pastel colours in a flowered box. Beside it a packet of mints and a scarf. The back of the driver's headrest is crisscrossed in pale blonde hairs, like a finely embroidered fabric. Looking at them I feel something welling up inside me, a bubbling sort of grief. They are so real. She is real, Dexter.

There is nothing else about the car to tell me that it belongs to her except a flat, square box on the dashboard. I look at it, frowning until I realise where I have seen it before. It is the box in which the gloves were wrapped when I gave them to her. The tiny piece of purple tissue paper pokes from under the lid. She kept the box. Stupid how a cardboard box, not even the real gift or even the purpose of the giving, can bring forth so much pain. Behind me there is a protesting squeal of metal and an ancient lift descends, its concertina cage screaming in pain as it is wrenched back, and someone comes out into the silent lot.

I duck down behind the car, stilling my breathing and telling my heart to quit its pounding because it sounds so loud someone a block away could hear it. I glance under the chassis of the old station wagon and see feet, in sneakers, coming towards me. It's her, I know it is her and all I can see are her feet. Panic and hope crowd my brain. I have an 'outside myself' sense of amazement that I am unnerved by the thought of her finding me when, usually I am so calm under other, more stressful, situations. She walks purposefully towards the car. If she comes to the driver's side she will see me and then I don't know what will happen. Will she scream? Cry? Run? I daren't allow myself any other thoughts. Killer instinct kicks in and I will myself still, silent.

Her feet move away from me, to the passenger side and she opens the door. I hear her rummaging in the car, the sound of the lid of the cardboard box being opened.

"Fuck." She curses to herself, the second time I have heard that word from her tonight. "Where the fuck is it? Jesus, Lumen. I'll have to go back. Great, just great." I realise she is talking about the glove, the one in my pocket. She thinks she's left it at the scene and she's panicking. I hear her stand up, slam the car door and then the twanging sound of her leaning against the door panel. I glance up through the car and see her back as she stands against the door, arms folded.

"He gives you two things, just two things, you stupid girl..." she shakes her head to herself, annoyance in her shoulders, the angle of her head. She's talking about me. I'm the person who gave the gloves to her and the pen knife. I smile to myself in the darkness of the shadows, me, she's talking about me.

"Hey princess!" A young man's voice, new footsteps, sharp, confident coming across the concrete floor. I hear Lumen sigh.

"Hello Peter." She says and I can tell she's smiling. A sharp stab of something goes through me, is it jealousy?

"What you doin'? On your way to work? Want a ride?" I hear the car complain as she stands away from its body.

"No, no it's too beautiful this morning to get in a car, besides I'm way too early, the walk will be nice." The young man sighs dramatically and she laughs. "You're up early too?"

"Yeah I am, got some things to deliver to the other side of the city, figured I'd hit the traffic before it hit me." She laughs again. "What you up to tonight, Elle?" Elle? Of course, the name on the deeds of the car. This must be the name she's using to rent the building too. I hear Lumen sigh, she scuffs one foot along the floor.

"You goin' out with your guy again?" The words are like ice in my belly, I feel myself sinking into the concrete, a slow, lingering death. I hear her breathe out, a long slow breath like this is a repeated question. My blood is pounding, my throat tight and dry. I want to, I need to, get away from this place.

"Yep. Dex is picking me up tonight, Peter." I start at my own name. What? For a brief moment I consider that she has met another man, someone else called Dexter. This in turn is followed by the crazy supposition that it was his name she was saying when she did those things in the bathroom, that it was some other Dexter she was invoking as she came. I clutch my stomach not sure if the pain I feel is real or imagined.

"He's a lucky guy, your Dexter." Peter says regretfully. "Does he know he's such a lucky guy?" I peek through the window, she is turned sideways to speak to him, it's risky and she might see me but she seems occupied with the conversation. Her eyes drop briefly to the floor before she answers, a small part of me interprets her glance as something sad.

"I hope he knows Peter. I hope so." Peter accepts the line which to me is obvious and glaring.

"Any man would be crazy not to appreciate having a girl like you, Elle." Peter sounds like he means it, he really likes her. "So, what are the big plans for tonight?" Lumen shrugs.

"Oh I think we're going to have pizza with his kids, just nice family stuff you know." Peter sighs again.

"You like children, Elle?" He asks, leaning on the car next to her, his arm pressed against her arm. She moves away but it's not a movement from fear, she just isn't comfortable with the contact. She nods.

"Oh yeah, hey, I have to, right? In my line of work! And Harrison, he's Dexter's baby, he's one year old. He's just so adorable. What a sweetie, like his daddy." Her smile is genuine, it lights up her face. I am frozen on this cold floor. Peter nods, I can see he knows he's defeated by this phantom boyfriend and his adorable children.

"What does he do again? For work? The way you talk about him Elle I'm surprised you two aren't sharing a house together somewhere in the suburbs. Nice garden for the kids, a drive big enough for this beast," he bangs the roof of the car and she laughs, "and Dexter's SUV."

"He works for the police." Her voice is short, she sounds hurt. "What makes you think he has an SUV Peter? Have you seen him pick me up?" Her tone is wary, careful. I see Peter shake his head.

"No, I'm always working too late to see your knight in shining armour Elle, but I just imagined him with an SUV, for all his kids, and you." He adds, patting her on the arm. She doesn't flinch but I see her tense up. "Anyway, better get on the road before it gets too busy. See you later Elle, have fun tonight!"

"I will." She waves as Peter leaves to get in his car, one of the vintage, cared for models. "Drive safely." He nods and pulls out of the parking lot.

When he has gone, Lumen sighs. It's not a happy sound. She wipes her hand over her face and sniffs. I want to say something, get up from my stupid hiding place and put my arms about her but I don't know if I should. I don't know what's making her feel bad. I don't have enough information to base a judgement on and I can't trust that I know enough about women to know why she's invented me as an imaginary boyfriend. Maybe she just wants to warn off Peter?

I'm not supposed to be here and the fact of this is like a knife to the chest.

She stands there for a moment with her hands over her face. She isn't moving at all and I bend my leg out from the position where it is starting to cramp. Then she seems to straighten her back, puts her bag on her shoulder and wipes her face with her sleeve.

"Oh for god's sake, pull yourself together." She scolds herself in a whisper and walks towards the exit. I give her a moment to get out onto the sidewalk before I glance at my watch and follow her. I still have an hour before I have to get to Batista's for breakfast and I have to know where she is working. She mentioned children and I'm intrigued.

She's not hard to follow, most people in the neighbourhood seem to speak to her even though she can only have been here for a short while. She ducks into a store and comes out with a newspaper and some milk which she swings at her side as she walks. She seems much happier now, I can't decide if that feeling of a fist around my heart is a good thing or a bad thing. I'm not used to this.

A few blocks on she stops outside a building and chats to an elderly lady who smiles when she sees Lumen approaching. I stop and walk back, sliding behind the brightly painted wall of the building. I can hear them speaking.

"Good morning, Mrs. Chester. Isn't it lovely?" Lumen sounds happy to see the old lady and this contrast with her previous mood somehow makes it easier for me to breathe. The old lady smiles in return.

"Why, hello, Elle honey. How are you doing today? Looking forward to another day with those rascals?" Lumen laughs lightly, the sound chokes me.

"Yes I am. We're walking them to the park this afternoon. It should be fun." I glance around the wall, the old lady's hand is on Lumen's arm. Lumen's face is turned towards the morning sun, her hair is shining, golden. I lose my breath.

"And have you spoken to that young man of yours yet?" The old lady, Mrs Chester, I correct myself, always liking to know who I am watching, gives a mock frown, shakes her head reprovingly. Lumen sighs and purses her lips.

"Not yet." It's all she says but it's two words filled with sorrow. Mrs Chester squeezes her arm.

"You just get on and call him. What can you have argued about so badly that you can't just call him? People in love should talk to each other. That's what Mr. Chester and I used to do, we used to talk." She smiles sympathetically.

"I will call, I will. Just, not right now. I don't know what I'd say." Mrs Chester shakes her head.

"Just tell him the truth honey." Lumen nods and makes to go. Mrs Chester watches her walk along the street and shakes her head. Then she slowly makes her way back inside and I see Lumen go down some steps into a building.

I stand on the street not really seeing the cars and the people starting out to work in the harsh sunshine. I am trying to process all my learning from the morning. And none of it makes sense. Am I her foil? A story she tells the people she comes into contact with? Her way of having a back story, a cover for this Elle character she has become? I don't know and I can't trust the small voice whispering that what she has said to Peter, to Mrs. Chester, has a kernel of truth.

"What if she is hunting you Dex?" Harry squints into the sun behind me. I shake my head, annoyed by his interruption of my thoughts. "What if all these stories are just her way of making a new identity so she can stalk you? Like Kyle Butler." I bite my lip. I shake my head but it's not a response to his question, it's an attempt to clear my thoughts. It doesn't work. I start to walk.

As I pass the building Lumen entered, I glance to its basement windows. It's a kindergarten. Bright daises are painted on the windows and the door, ladybugs, butterflies and caterpillars crowd the small stairwell walls. Through the window I see Lumen holding a little boy, he's about the same age as Harrison and he is grinning as she swings him high over her head. Her face is serene, the most contented I have seen all morning, the expression only surmounted by her face as she used the knife on Daniels. I carry on walking before she looks up.

Even though I have not slept all night and should be tired, I feel just fine. It's as though seeing Lumen has given me more energy. I decide to walk the last few blocks and by the time I get to Batista's I am a little late. He gives me a knowing smile as he opens the door and then I am assaulted by Cody and Astor, excited to see me and eager to tell me about their evening. Maria passes Harrison to me and I kiss his forehead and he tugs my hair.

"Maria showed me how to fire a gun!" Astor says enthusiastically. I raise my eyebrows at LaGuerta, who smirks.

"I ask you to babysit and you teach her how to kill a man?" I ask mildly and she laughs.

"I just showed her how to aim, it wasn't loaded." She says like it's the most reasonable thing in the world to teach a teenager. I raise my eyebrows at Angel, who holds up his hands and backs away. I turn to Cody.

"And what did Maria teach you, Cody? How to do a cavity search for narcotics?" The adults laugh and Cody frowns. Astor grins to herself quietly, alarmingly.

"What's a cavity search, Dexter?" Cody asks.

"It's when you look in holes for drugs." Says Astor, smirking. I look at her in surprise, Angel and Maria are chuckling.

"Oh." Says Cody, nonplussed. "No, she didn't teach me that, but she did show me how to restrain a criminal." I nod seriously.

"All very useful skills, thank you Maria." She smiles and goes into the kitchen.

"Pancakes?" There is a scramble for the table. I sit down, feeling something uncomfortable in my back pocket. I put my hand there and realise it is Lumen's glove.

**So, now we know what Lumen's doing in her days. I don't think Dex can just go and talk to her, there's too much resting on the conversation and he's not ready yet. But I hope this whetted your appetite. I'll be interested to hear what you think of this chapter.**

**Thanks so much for your comments, feedback and support so far. It really makes my day. And thanks to VB for the wicked betaing. Cx**


	8. Donut Dexter

I drive to work having dropped the kids off back at the apartment with Sonja. All the way back Cody and Astor argue as to who has been taught the most 'kicking' skill by Maria. Thanks Maria. Astor mimes blowing Cody away with an imaginary police issue revolver and Cody attempts to restrain her before she can shoot him. Harrison sits in his car seat and smiles. At least one of them doesn't seem hell bent on violence, though it strikes me as wrong somehow that it is not my biological offspring who is exhibiting blood lust.

"Hey, guys! Be careful!" I say loudly as I glance in the rear view mirror and see Cody grabbing Astor's gun arm. They are laughing now, not fighting anymore and Harrison is hitting Cody on the head with a plastic, turtle shaped rattle. Ah. That's more like it. I shake my head and pull in to the kerb.

"Ok, so, see you tonight for dinner. What do you think you'll want?"

"Pizza!" They chorus, looking at each other as they realise they have agreed on something. Astor takes Harrison out of his car seat and hoists him on to her hip, so like Rita. She kisses me on the cheek through the window. She's got much more affectionate over the last few weeks.

"Phone when you're on your way," she says, all adult and sensible. I give her a mini salute with my fingertips and she smiles, turning and carrying the toddler to Sonja's apartment.

I pull out into traffic thinking about the kids' food requests. Pizza, just what Lumen said we'd be having. Even though I have no idea what she's doing in Miami, no idea what she wants from me, if she wants anything at all, I still feel better knowing she's here.

"What if she's hunting you, Dex?" Harry looks at me seriously, his face a picture of concern. I twist my mouth and look back at him, flicking my eyes back to the road as a car in front turns left.

"I don't know. I'm going to have to watch her and see." I take the glove from my back pocket and put it on the dash.

"What are you going to do about that?" Harry nods to the black hand lying limply on the vinyl.

"Give it back." I say. I feel his expression but he is gone. I stop briefly for donuts, the ritual is part of my old self that I don't want to lose, Dexter the donut guy.

"Perfect! Just perfect!" says Angel depositing his hat on his desk and making for the wide white box I am carrying as the elevator doors open. "How can I be hungry after all those pancakes? I don't know but... oh... pink frosting!" He grins and grabs one covered in stuff that is guaranteed tooth decay. I smile.

"Alcohol, that's alcohol making you eat." I nod to him and he grins.

"How many have you had already, amigo? Did you drink all those tequila shots Masuka bought for you?" he shakes his head, "Madre santé! That was a lot of tequila. Did you have fun last night? You don't look like a man who has been up all night being bad, eh?" he chuckles and I smile.

"How do you know I was being bad? I might have been being very good." I look at him, wide eyed innocence personified. He laughs again and slaps me on the shoulder. Let him take it how he likes.

"This is what I like! We had a good night, we should do it again!" He takes a napkin from the box and wanders back to his desk, licking his fingers.

"Hey Dexter! Nice to see you this morning, at a more civilised hour, bro. I thought you weren't going to be here. What happened, get tied up?" Deb laughs hysterically at her own joke. I sigh, is she going to ever get bored of this? I shake my head and offer the donut box.

"No, Debra," I use her full name and look right at her and she just grins. "I was not 'tied up' and I presume that lame joke was a reference to your supposition about some of the things I said this morning." I turn to go, she thinks she's upset me. Her hand is on my arm, the donut box wobbles dangerously.

"Ok, I'm sorry. You're right I shouldn't tease you, Jesus, that was the most conversation I think we've ever had. I'm letting it go, even though I had some killer lines ready." She smiles and takes a donut and bites it. She grins around the sugary residue.

"No luck on the little girl murderer?" I ask, moving to my desk, putting down the donuts and hooking my bag on the back of the chair. She shakes her head, mouth still too full to speak. No, and you won't have because last night I watched Lumen kill him and chop him up into manageable pieces. I smile. "Any more leads?" she shakes her head again and swallows.

"No, the douche seems to have just vanished. I don't know what's going on around here recently, we get a case that looks hot and the next thing we know, poof!" She waves her hand like a magician, donut crumbs all over my desk, I sigh. "Sorry Dex, hang on," she says as she leans over to wipe them onto the floor where they're so much more hygienic. I smile tightly. She takes another donut.

"Lunch today?" she asks, turning and walking back to her desk, waving the donut and leaving a wake of crumbs which Hansel and Gretel could have followed with their eyes shut. It's a good job she's not the serial killer in the family. The way she scatters evidence, she'd have been on Death Row years ago, I think, as I go over to Quinn's desk. I don't like him but I'm being sociable.

"Donut?" I ask politely as I bring the box down so he can see. He's on the phone, receiver crooked into his shoulder as he smiles and reaches up for the box. I bring my arm lower.

"Ok, well, call me if you hear anything," he says and hangs up. "Thanks Dex. Did you get that stuff talked out with Deb this morning? Fucking early to be having a heart to heart." He bites the donut and smiles. I nod.

"Well, you know, sometimes you've just gotta talk to someone. Sorry I woke you. "

"Hey, it's ok, I managed to get some of the mattress when she'd gone. Man, your sister flails about in her sleep. It's a wonder I ever get any shut eye the way she carries on." He sighs and I nod, thinking that there are some things which I don't want to be discussing with Quinn.

"That and the grade A, foul mouthed fucking you're getting!" Masuka snatches a donut, even though he has to go on tiptoes to do it, and leans on Quinn's desk. Quinn looks at him like he's some kind of alien life form. I think Quinn might have a point there. "I've heard that she screams like a banshee when she's on it!" Masuka grins, his eyes crinkling behind the round glasses. I sigh and shake my head. He misinterprets the gesture.

"No? She doesn't? Well Dex, I guess you'd know, sharing that little apartment with her for so long. You know I did wonder what the noise must be like up there sometimes, back in the day before you got married and moved out. You with Rita and Deb with... well whoever she was with that week." I look at Masuka, eyes wide and shaking my head slowly. He doesn't get it. He glances to Quinn whose face looks like he might just get up and punch Masuka in the nose at any moment.

I watch, as the realisation of what he has said dawns on Masuka's face. He swallows his donut slowly and tries to grin but it just ends up in a grimace of fear. He points to our tiny lab in the corner of the office.

"Foot print samples." He squeaks and backs away, only turning his back on us when he is three desks from us. Quinn looks at me.

"What a jerk." He says, shaking his head and taking another donut, they're popular today. "Do you ever wonder what he does in his home life, Dex?" I frown and watch the small man scuttle to his desk where a tall blonde lab assistant from somewhere else in the station is waiting for him. I nod.

"I'm not entirely sure I'd want to know." I say seriously. Quinn looks in the same direction as me and nods too. It's the most bonding we've ever done. Maybe him dating my sister is a good thing, if only I could actually work out what he knew about me, I'd be a lot happier.

I knock on LaGuerta's door and pop my hand holding the donut box around it, she laughs.

"Come in Dexter. Thanks, I'd love one. I think I expended far too much energy with Cody and Astor last night." She perches on the edge of the desk with her donut, I notice it is the same one that Angel chose.

"Thanks for that Maria, I had a good night and it was nice not to worry that I was putting Sonja out. They seemed to have a great time." She finishes chewing her bite before she speaks, delicately wiping her mouth with an immaculately manicured nail. It's pink, to match the particularly colourful ensemble of the tiger print blouse and pink suit she's wearing today. With her gold jewellery and bright colours she reminds me of the tropical fish I sometimes see when I'm out on my boat. She nods.

"I think I did too. They're very entertaining. They seem to be coping after..." She pauses unsure of what to say. I nod, I know what she means.

"Yeah, I think they are. It's still hard for them, it always will be I guess." Maria pushes herself from the desk and touches my arm. I look down, a little alarmed at the intimacy.

"And for you, too. Look, it might be none of my business but..." She lets go of me and retreats behind her desk. I relax, I am much happier with this arrangement," but Angel said you met a girl last night?" I open my mouth to say something but she carries on.

"And Deb said today that you might not be in work today, that you'd seemed pretty messed up when she spoke to you this morning. And it made me wonder what was going on with you, Dex?" This is what happens when you work with a bunch of people who spend their lives following clues and finding evidence, it's a wonder I've hidden anything. It strikes me as interesting that it's my love life they're all so interested in, not any other aspect of who I am. I guess it's just as well. I look at my feet, holding the donut box between us like a shield.

"Maria," I sigh, how can I be having this kind of conversation again? Has the universe gone mad and decided it's 'Get Deep with Dexter Day'? No one warned me. I'd have liked a warning. Is this part of the new me, being something other than a monster? I'm not sure I like it, it certainly makes me feel uncomfortable.

"I...I'm having a hard time about someone I don't see anymore." Unless you count the fact that I spent nearly all last night stalking her and watching her commit a felony, I add to myself. Maria nods, a blow of breath telling me she's glad I am talking. For a moment I feel sorry for her, she probably steeled herself for this conversation, expecting to get my usual chirpy brush off. But she still said it anyway.

"This Lumen girl?" I look up, eyebrows knotted. She moves back in her chair and I wonder what part of me I have let slip, I have to be more careful. I have to work out what this new me is showing to the world. First Deb in the coffee shop and now LaGuerta have seen too much. "Angel said he spoke to her, for Deb," she says hastily, pronouncing his name with the soft 'h' sound she uses when she's being affectionate about him.

"Oh, right." I say, nodding, trying to claw back some of the old me, the Dexter no one saw through. "Ok."

"He said she was nice. We thought we might get to meet her but..." she spreads her hands and her bracelets jingle on her arm. She looks puzzled. I squirm, oh god. What do I say now? I grimace.

"Mmm. Well, I would have liked that I think but, she's gone now." I try not to sound upset, I try not to sound like anything but I can see from her face she thinks this is just male pride. She cocks her head to one side and sighs.

"And you don't know where she is? You can't go and speak to her? Look, I hope I'm not being too pushy but you're one of my team Dex and you're a friend." I look up at her soft brown eyes, she's a passionate person, I know that. Over the years I've seen her fight, play dirty, fall in love. It's no mistake that she's married to Angel, they have what he likes to call 'La Pasion'. You can hear the capitals when he says it. Right now there is some of that passion in Maria's eyes. If she were me she'd be out there fighting for Lumen, winning her back because that's what matters. La Pasion matters. Maybe she's right.

"Maybe, I don't know..." I tail off lamely. She smiles softly and comes back around the desk. I try not to back away but I involuntarily lift the donut box between us like there's safety in confectionary. She smiles again.

"Think about it Dexter. A woman appreciates honesty and passion in a man." She plucks the word from my brain like she has a secret window into my head. Am I really that transparent? The idea makes me sweat.

I get out of there as fast as I can, relinquishing a second donut that she says she shouldn't eat, patting her ample hips and smiling ruefully. I can't see anything wrong with LaGuerta's hips, they seem fine to me and Angel must like them.

I spend the rest of the morning safely behind my desk with the blinds closed. I shut the door against Masuka's insane flirting with the blonde lab assistant and sit in the dark, hands over my eyes, elbows on the table. What the fuck is happening to me?

Suddenly the night's activities catch up with me, my eyes feel like lead and my breathing is getting slow, I feel a dribble down my chin and jerk awake, hastily wiping my mouth. Coffee, I need coffee.

I cross the office and make for the elevator. No one bothers me, Quinn and Deb are poring over some file, she leans on his shoulder and their heads almost touch. I envy them their ease with each other. Angel is in Maria's office, she is waving her arms and he is gesturing too, whatever it is they're talking about has them both fired up, suddenly he hugs her and I see her fingers pressing into his back, indenting the wildly patterned shirt he is wearing. I sigh. Jesus. Is everyone at it?

The elevator is empty and I am glad. People, I just don't want to see any more people. I go down to the parking lot and get a coffee from the stand just outside. The day is hot but I go and sit in the SUV anyway, the metal crash shell of the car making me feel safer, protected from the outside world. I rest my cup on the dashboard and pick up Lumen's glove. Surreptitiously I sniff the leather and feel my muscles relaxing as I breathe her in. I realise that I need her, I need her to be at peace.

I close my eyes and let that feeling wash over me, trying not to struggle as the frightening wave of something I have not really experienced before crashes over my head. I needed Rita too, I tell myself. She made me real. I cast my mind back to those days before we found out she was pregnant with Harrison. The contentment of the routine of my life, the regularity of it all, sex on Tuesday, Thursdays and Saturdays, pizza night on Wednesday, bowling on Friday. Until Lumen that was the nearest I had to feeling at peace. At least, without a knife in my hand and a plastic apron protecting me from blood splatter.

I realise, sitting there in the sunshine, the car filled with the smell of coffee, of Lumen, that I had mistaken routine for happiness. It's an easy mistake when you are as compulsive as I am. Mentally I weigh the two worlds. Rita and the family man, Lumen and the killer. There's no competition and I feel mildly traitorous as I realise that with Lumen I could have had both worlds at once.

This leads me to thinking about Lumen's new day job. Is it new? Is this what she did before those men kidnapped her? I correct myself, before she skipped her own wedding and ran away to Miami? Maybe it is, I remember she said something about college but she never said what she studied.

The image of her holding that child is bright in my mind's eye. She looked so happy and I can't help but let my thoughts wander down a path where I wonder what it'd be like to live with Lumen and the kids, as a family again. She'd be a good mother, there's no mistaking that. How she dealt with Astor and her friend when they showed up drunk, her willingness to cuddle Harrison, look after him and play with him. I get that tight feeling in my chest again.

I can feel a decision forming in my body. The part of me that was not willing to face rejection, that wouldn't, for my own sake, face her and speak to her, is prepared to do it for the kids. Cody and Astor and Harrison deserve that second chance at a family life. The chance that the Morgans gave to me all those years ago.

I don't know when I drift off to sleep but I wake up suddenly as a driver in the lot honks his horn at the garbage men who are blocking the exit. The coffee is cold and the glove lies next to it, empty until I fill it with her hand again.

**Donut Dexter! We all love him. Thanks for all your support so far! I really appreciate your support and enthusiasm! It makes me want to do better! Thanks to VB who betaed even though a dog tried to save Christmas! Cx**


	9. The Message

The rest of the afternoon I try to think about how I can approach Lumen. The problem has many angles and I need some time to work this out. Luckily the office seems deserted; most of the team have been called to a meeting about missing paperwork. I hear Quinn and Deb bitching about it as they make for the meeting room downstairs where press conferences are usually held. It gives me some space to think.

The first real issue is how to make contact. Can I call her on her cell? I still have her number, I scroll past it quickly when I search though my contacts. I have an image of her, looking at her phone and seeing my name flash up. Would she even answer it? I don't know the answer to that and I rub my hands though my hair in frustration. No, I think I have to go and see her face to face. The idea fills me with more dread than I am happy to admit but it's the only way. Ok, so when? When can I find the time when she's not working and I don't have the kids? I've already used up my babysitting credits for this week unless I can talk Deb into taking them out for the afternoon on the weekend. Quinn likes kids and though I really don't like the idea of leaving my children with that man I suppose it's the best option I have. I can't just ask Deb to babysit and then say 'oh by the way, don't bring your boyfriend, I don't like him'. Even to me that sounds rude.

So, the weekend, if Deb will help me out. I think she will if I tell her why I need the time. I shake my head. All this reveal, all this openness is killing me. It's not who I am, not who Harry trained me to be.

"But you're evolving, Dex." Harry leans back in the swivel chair beside me and I nod. Am I? "Yes, you are." He answers my silent question. I look at him.

"Is this what it's like for everyone else Harry? This amount of confusion? People asking questions? Asking myself questions?" he frowns.

"You've always been good at asking yourself questions, Dex." He says, I scratch my eyebrow and think. I suppose he's right.

"But those questions were in my head, not out in the open." I wave my arm about as though to indicate the flock of toxic question marks in the air. He smiles; it's something he rarely does.

"This is what the world is like for other people, Dexter. This is the world you're embracing with Lumen." His face clouds, I know what he's thinking.

"What if she doesn't want me?" I whisper the question which has been tapping at the inside of my skull ever since I saw her outside Bryan Daniels' motel room. "What if she's a mess, not sure what she wants, and using me as a mask to hide behind to those people who get too close?" I try to imagine how she said my name to Peter, how she sounded when she talked about me to Mrs Chester. I can't conjure the tone of her voice because I have too much interest in what I want to hear.

"This is what life is about, Dex," Harry sounds like he used to when he told me how to pretend to be normal. He sounds earnest, serious, like this lesson really matters to him. "Life is about uncertainty, trust and just trying things out. I know this is hard for you, son but you have it in you. I see that now." I turn to look at him; astonished by this admittance that maybe he was wrong. The chair is empty.

So, ok, I'll ask Deb to babysit and then I'll go over and talk to Lumen. It sounds so simple and it makes me want to run the fuck away. Great, yep, just terrific. Maybe I should warn her I am coming? At least that way, if she's not there then it won't be as much of a blow. It gives us both an out, I reason with myself even though I am not fooled. It's me I'm worried about, how this rejection will feel a second time around. I don't do second chances; I don't do chances at all. Then I remember the kids and the chance they deserve and I grip the edge of my desk and push on through this plan.

I stare at my desk, the microscope, the pens, the test tubes, and my box of latex gloves... that's it. I'll drop the glove off at her apartment. I'll leave a note. Then she'll know it's me and she can decide what to do. This way she gets back her glove and I get to make first contact that doesn't scare me half to death with its vulnerability factor. I smile, this sounds more like a plan I am happy with. I might be able to cope with the rejection if it's more removed, less in my face.

I rub my finger across my lips. I'm not going to allow myself any crazy daydreams, not like that whole 'Dark Defender' scenario I had going on for a while, or the time I thought about just telling Deb that I was the Bay Harbour Butcher. No, no, keep it focused, Dex. You can't know anything beyond what you are going to do, what you're going to say.

What am I going to say? Fuck. I push away from my desk, letting the swivel wheels on my chair spin me around. It seems quite an appropriate movement for the way my mind feels this afternoon. Masuka catches the movement out of the corner of his eye through the slatted blinds on the door and grins.

"Wanna race?" he shouts to me, laughing. We used to race our chairs around the office when it was quiet. I didn't really see the point but he insisted it was what everyone did when no one was watching. So I accepted this as normal office behaviour and embraced the mad notion. Sometimes I scoot myself right over to Deb's chair, even though it's quite a way. It makes her laugh. It's part of my act. I shake my head.

"Not today, you'd win too easily! I am bushed!" he sniggers and waggles his eyebrows. He thinks I mean I have been up all night with a girl, he's right, but it's not that sort of penetration we were up to. I grin widely. "I'm going out for a couple of hours. Got some stuff to drop off across town. Need anything?"

"Only a slice of that lady pie you were all over last night, Dextrous!" He uses that awful nickname and I nod. I take this as a no, he doesn't want me to get him anything. He just wants me to tell him what I was up to last night. Ok, are you ready for this, Vince Masuka? I grin.

"Hey, I already shared her with another guy last night, Vince, three I can handle, but four? I'm pondering the logistics here, dude." Vince's eyes go so wide he nearly falls off his chair. I smile and pat him on the shoulder as I leave. As the elevator doors close I can still seeing him sitting there, stunned into uncharacteristic silence.

I smile to myself as I get into the SUV. In the space of the last twelve hours I have intimated to my kid sister that I am into bondage and told Vince Masuka I have had a threesome. I am branching out in the lies department. Soon we'll get to the point where, even if I told them what I'm really doing on my nights off, none of them would believe me anyway. This is great. I close my eyes and feel the hot Miami sunshine on my eyelids, making everything seem red as it filters though the blood vessels. I open my eyes, grab the glove from the dash and check the glove box for paper. I have everything I need to leave Lumen a note. Everything except the words. I start the engine and pull out of the parking lot.

I weave through traffic until a jack knifed truck holds me up. While I sit there, samba music blaring from the radio, the sounds of my fellow citizens losing their tempers all around me I try to find the way to tell Lumen I know where she is. I grab the paper and take a pen from my bag on the passenger seat.

'Lumen,' I write, 'it's Dexter. Hi. I wanted to return your glove. You dropped it when...' No, no. I scrawl over what I have written. What was I going to say? You dropped it when you disposed of Daniels' body? Jesus. Way to get a person convicted, Dexter. I purse my lips.

'Lumen, I wanted to return your glove. I found it. If you want to get in touch, you know my number. Dexter.' I look at the paper. My message seems cold. I sound angry. In it is none of the emotion I am feeling, the fear and the love. It might as well be a note to tell the garbage men to take the plastic bottles this time around. I sigh. Traffic starts to crawl so I put down my paper and pen and try to think.

By the time I am across town and near her apartment block I am no nearer to the answer and it's driving me crazy. What the fuck do you say to the woman who might be the only person you will ever really love and who left you when you'd helped her kill the men who raped her? There's not a Hallmark card for that. There's a market they've not tapped. Fuck.

I park over the street from her building and buy a coffee, I take it back to the car and sit once again with the pad and pen. Every few minutes, although I am not writing a thing I am staring at the paper wishing for magic, I look up the street. I half dread, half hope that I will see her. When does she get off work? I go back to the paper.

Half an hour later I am still looking at the small blank square. I wonder if there's an internet site for this? How to get back in touch with your serial killer girlfriend dot com. I doubt it, another niche in the market. I'm on a roll here.

The coffee's done and I've had a Danish too. I get out of the car to brush the crumbs from my pants and I see her coming down the street. I get back into the car and realise too late that she might recognise the SUV. Shit. But there's no time to drive away without her noticing.

She walks along, frowning to herself and seems to pass my car without glancing over the street. I watch her skip up the steps of her building and through the double doors which flash in the reflected light as they swing closed behind her. Fuck it. I'll have to just write something and go. This isn't part of the plan, Dexter. She needs to read the message before she sees you. A movement in one of the windows catches my attention, she is closing the blinds in one of the rooms. I see her arms lifted as she reaches for the cord, glimpse the swathe of tanned skin as her t shirt rides up over her belly. A shock of electricity goes through me. I am frozen, looking up at the window.

For a moment she looks down onto the street. Surely she can't recognise the SUV from up there, its roof must look like any other vehicle from above? Then she closes the blinds and I can't see her anymore. My heart is pounding in my chest and I wonder idly if people can hear it outside, like you can sometimes hear the beat from the music of the Cuban boys when they drive past, their speakers thudding.

I don't give myself time to think. I get out of the car and lock it, carrying the paper and pen in my hand, down at my side like I carry a knife or a syringe. The parallel hits me. The syringe is my first stopping point for my victim. It robs them of warning, the opportunity to act on what I am going to do. This is just the opposite. This is a warning to Lumen, a chance for her to decide how she wants to act before I can do anything. It puts the power firmly in her hands. The thought almost makes me stop and turn back. Do I want to give her that power over me? Who am I fucking kidding? She already has it, she had it from the start.

In the underground parking lot there is no sound but my soft footsteps. Her car is still where she left it this morning and the wet marks on the concrete floor have dried now, the heat from the sun has permeated even this subterranean lair. My mind is focussed on getting me to the car undetected, even though it seems there is no one about at this time.

I press the paper on the hood of her station wagon and lean over to write. Behind me a car sweeps into the lot and parks way over the other side of the concrete space. Hurriedly I write something and I tuck the note and the glove under her windshield wiper. I straighten up as a voice calls out to me.

"Hey! Dude! What are you doin'?" It's Peter, I know before I turn around. I fix a smile to my face and face him.

"Oh, hi. Sorry this must look odd. I'm just leaving a note on my..." I pause and then plunge on, desperate to get out of here before I am seen by anyone else. "My girlfriend's car." I watch his young, handsome face frown and then he looks behind me. He sees the note and grins. He puts out his hand.

"Then you must be Dexter! Hello Dexter!" I smile and shake his hand, there's something slightly challenging about his tone, though on the surface, he seems friendly enough.

"Yes, yes, I am. And you are?" I incline my head and he grins.

"Peter, I live upstairs from Elle, she's talked about you to me before. You two must be quite an item. She's a great girl." He sighs wistfully, I remember his words from this morning and nod.

"Yes, yes she is Peter. I'm a lucky, lucky guy and I know it." Somehow, lying to this guy, pretending it's all ok with Lumen, makes me feel warm inside. He nods to the note.

"Very romantic." He says, eyebrows raised. I shrug.

"She left her glove at my apartment, I wanted to return it and thought I could use the opportunity to write something personal." I look at him, take the note and give it another fold as I tuck it back under the wiper. I make it quite clear that this is private. He nods, then frowns.

"Gloves in this heat? Man, what were you doing that she needed gloves?" I freeze. He's right, why on earth would anyone need gloves in a Miami summer, my brain works so fast that I see the image of those 60s TV spy show computers, whizzing discs and flashing lights.

"We were unpacking the old chest freezer. You know, cleaning out and restocking. Just chores." I level my gaze and he seems to buy the lie. I study his expression, is it a mask like my own? He nods and smiles.

"Cool. Sure you don't want to take it up to the apartment?" he nods towards the elevator. I look in that direction and shake my head.

"No, more romantic this way," I smile, borrowing his word from earlier. He grins back.

"Chicks love that shit," he agrees and I smile. "Weird how it's romantic if they like the guy but stalking if they don't, huh?" He turns to the elevator. I nod. He's right but I don't like his tone. I watch him 'til he gets inside and I see the flashing numbers rising. I give the note another little tuck and leave.

I drive back to the station thinking hard. Thinking about Peter and the strange vibe I got from him. Is he just interested in Lumen and jealous of me? Or is there something else? Something more sinister that my inner monster is picking up on? I really don't know. Genuine feelings have a disturbing way of clouding up everything else. Things used to be so neat, so tidy.

And what about my note? In the end all my thinking was useless anyway because I just had to time to scribble something as Peter showed up. I frown, remembering what I wrote.

'L, I found your glove. I miss you. Call me if you want to, D x.' Was that the right thing to say? It doesn't seem like much, but now I think it over maybe I managed to convey what I was feeling in those brief words. I raise my eyebrows as I realise that, for the first time in my life, I wrote a kiss on a note without thinking about it. Wow.

Deb bangs on the window and scares me half to death and then laughs when she see me jump.

"Hey douche! Take me to lunch!" she demands, getting into the passenger seat, throwing my bag and other belongings on the floor of the foot well. I frown.

"Afternoon Debra, how was the meeting?" I ask, starting the engine again. She sighs.

"We all got a total ass fucking for missing paperwork! It wasn't even my paperwork! Jesus! The Chief is a ball busting motherfucker!" I nod, she really does have a way with expression. "And then Masuka was babbling on about you and some guy? In a threesome? Fuck me, Dex, what have you been telling him?" I laugh and begin to reverse the car.

"Nothing, he was just getting on my nerves, so I shut him up." She belly laughs at this.

"Fuckin' A!" she exclaims slapping my knee. "He has a whole new realm of respect and fear for you now, bro!" We laugh and then she squirms in her seat. She reaches behind her and pulls out something from behind her butt.

"What's this? Yours?" she passes me a small folded piece of paper. I frown and take it, opening it as I get to the exit of the parking lot. The writing is small, neat.

'Dexter, I recognised your car. Can I talk to you sometime? Call me? L'. No kiss, she must have pushed it through my open window as I delivered her note. The symmetry is startling. But no kiss.

**I'm really glad you guys are enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. It's so nice to get your feedback and hear that you think I have the characters right. I am writing this as though it's season 6 so it isn't over when they finally meet up. Let me know what you think about this one. Dex's joke on Masuka, the note, the chair racing? Thanks VB for betaing even when it's the festive season. Cx**


	10. Crime Scene

All through lunch I barely listen to Deb's commentary on the missing paperwork debacle and how much I scared Masuka. All I can think about is the note. I even consider telling Deb about it but I decide it's too complicated and takes me to the sort of conversation I don't want to have. The glove, the car registration that led me to her apartment? Not things I want to discuss with my sister, the cop.

So, instead, I nod and look out at the water and eat my pork sandwich. Am I going to call Lumen? I really don't know. The idea was a good one but now the sharp reality of that conversation we're going to have the first time we see each other again is not one I'm enjoying. I don't know what she's feeling, even her note doesn't really give anything away apart from the fact that she wants to talk. Correction, she maybe wants to talk. I rub my face with my hand. This is a disaster. Deb stops talking.

"Dex? What's up? God, what a douche I am! Here I am going on about my day when you're still thinking about this girl." She puts her hand on my arm and I smile, it feels tight, unnatural. In the warm sunshine all this is feeling faintly ridiculous. I don't feel these things, I never have, who am I trying to fool? But then I put my hand in my pocket and I feel the note there. I have a decision to make.

"Can we just sit for a minute?" I ask Deb and she pulls a face like this is the last thing she expected to hear from me, it probably is. My track record for 'comfortable silences' with my sister has previously been nil but this is the second time in two days that we've done this. It seems this thing with Lumen is having a ripple effect across my life. I try not to think about it. She nods and looks out to sea, pushing her 80s style sunglasses up her nose and sipping her iced coffee.

I watch the sparkle of light on the water and the muted sounds of holiday makers, volley ball players and jet skiers from down the sand and I try to sort my thoughts into a reasonable roll call. I recognise that this is a cusp. One of those moments where you either step forward and make things happen or you sit back down and stick with what you know. I'm usually good at this. My survival instinct, my lack of messy feelings, usually push me to the front of something new whether I like it or not. I plunge the needle in, I deal with Lila, I kill Liddy, I marry Rita. All things that made sense at the time. I see now that I am presented with an opportunity which I have not had before.

I met Lumen by accident, she fell down those attic steps and I reacted. I couldn't kill her, it wasn't in the code and I did the only thing I could think of at the time. Now I recognise that I could have done something else, she posed a threat to me and I've never had a problem dealing with threats before, but at the time it didn't seem that way. Maybe it was the way her limp body felt in my arms reminded me of how I last saw Rita. Maybe it was because, like Rita, she was a victim of monsters. Whatever it was, however it happened, I started to feel things for Lumen, things that felt real. Whatever the hell that means.

Deb shifts beside me and I glance sideways. She smiles softly and hooks her arm though mine. Public affection is not our strong point, though I know she can be like that with other people. I smile and I leave her hand tucked into the crook of my elbow.

So, I wasn't ready for those feelings. I didn't get time to decide if I wanted the relationship, it just happened. At first I didn't notice but then, when she mentioned her ex fiancé showing up, the idea that she could leave made me feel something. I don't know if Rita's death had made me more vulnerable or if I would have felt like this about her anyway. How can I tell? Jordan Chase said that it was the extraordinary circumstances that forged our bond. He scoffed at the idea that it was love. But extraordinary circumstances forged the person I am, why should who I love be any different? I sigh. Deb's hand flexes.

So this opportunity to decide what I want, to make an active choice about this relationship, is one that I didn't get the first time around. The enormity of the situation, the chance to open the door which might lead to a normal, human life is suddenly right in front of me. I close my eyes and feel the sun on my face. If I call Lumen, then I take that step. Whether or not she wants me is irrelevant, I now see this and it's the most obvious thing in the world. It's taking that chance. It's saying, I, Dexter Morgan, want this in my life. If I wasn't scared of rejection then it would mean there was nothing to reject. I'm not empty. I feel emotion. I blow out a long breath. I open my eyes. Deb is looking at me like she has never seen me before. Maybe she hasn't. Maybe no one has.

"Deb, I might need to ask you have the kids but I'm not sure when, it depends. Is that ok?" I don't tell her anymore but it doesn't feel as though I have to say anything. She nods.

"Sure. I've no plans until Monday night anyway. Just let me know. Will it be overnight?" she grins. I know what she's asking and I shake my head. Even though there's a clench of my gut when I think about spending the night with Lumen, it's not that easy. Deb cocks her head and nods.

We eat the rest of our lunch, chatting about Masuka. Deb wants to scare him some more but I think we should let my latest bombshell rock him for a little longer.

"Let him think about it a while, then we can get tactical." I grin and drink my iced coffee. Deb laughs.

"Dexter, you are the most unscary guy I know! If I need advice about scaring anyone, you are the last person I would ask." She carries on laughing to herself, leaving me to ponder the complete success of my act over the last twenty five years. I'm better than I thought.

I drop Deb back at the station, fighting the urge to check my phone every minute in case Lumen got my note and calls me first. Crazy ideas are rushing around my head. Is it better if she calls and I don't hear? Then I can call back, not be surprised by her voice, be prepared. Fuck. This is more complicated than killing people.

"This is just great, Dex." Harry is smiling as he leans back against the headrest. "These are all the things normal people worry about. I never thought I'd see the day." There's enough 'old me' left to curl my lip at his comment but he just laughs. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.

"This is hard." He nods, sympathetically.

"Yes, it's hard Dexter, because it involves someone else, their feelings, their reactions. This is a big step you're taking here. Are you sure you can cope?" I shake my head.

"I don't know. I just have to try it. If I don't then..."

"The monster wins?" offers Harry. I nod, grimly.

So I drive home, not collecting the kids from Sonja's just yet because I need to be alone to do this. It's strange how the quiet of the apartment is amplified by the kids' belongings strewn around the place, as though their presence makes everything louder, even silence. For a minute I tidy Harrison's toys into the plastic crate, fold Cody's t shirts and shorts and put Astor's sparse teenage girl cosmetics into some kind of pile. I stand in the middle of the room, a skateboard magazine in one hand and a pearl pink lipstick in the other and I realise I am stalling. I shake my head, drop them onto the coffee table and reach into my bag for my phone.

It makes me nervous to even look at it. I listen to the blood in my ears and marvel that I ever thought I would not feel that beat of excitement, of fear. See how far you've come, Dexter? For once it is me, not Harry, who asks the question.

I go into the bedroom because it seems more private. I sit on the bed and take a deep breath.

'Lumen, I'd like to see you. We could go for coffee? Dexter.' I press send. There. The two most momentous sentences of my life. No matter what happens now, I have opened that door. I sit and stare at the phone for a while. Half hoping, half fearing an answer. I seem to spend most of my time on the edge of hope and fear these days.

I drop the phone on the bed and begin to walk out of the room, maybe I'll have a shower, pick the kids up, take them out for pizza? The phone buzzes. I look at it, vibrating on the duvet like a rattlesnake. I pick it up and I realise I am cringing, my heart is thumping and my mouth is dry. I look with one eye at the screen. Deb calling. I flick it open.

"Dex, did you go home? We need you, down at the slaughterhouse by the quay, someone's found something disgusting. Looks like your field. Coming? Masuka's only going to fuck it up and LaGuerta's already pissed about the paperwork thing." The slaughterhouse? Lumen's kill. I need to get down there.

"Yeah, I'll be right there. What've they found?" Deb sounds serious when she answers.

"A whole load of fucked up shit, bro. Just get your ass down here so we know what's going on, ok?" She hangs up. Shit.

I park the SUV near to where Lumen parked her station wagon. Quinn is leaning on the side of the car, notepad in hand asking questions of some young guy in a boiler suit. The young guy looks green and he keeps sipping water from a bottle. Quinn nods when he sees me get out of the car.

"They're over there." He points with his pen to where yellow tape is fluttering and I can see Angel's broad frame squatting on his haunches to look at something on the ground. I can't see Deb or Masuka.

I flash my laminate to the uniformed cop who holds up the tape and waves me underneath. I cross to Angel and I can see now that he is looking closely at the concrete, he reaches out a hand and rubs the ground thoughtfully, lifting his fingers to his nose.

"Hey! What've you found?" I ask, trying to be breezy and remember how I usually sound at a crime scene but this is so much more than any other crime scene. It's Lumen's crime scene. Angel looks up squinting and nods to me.

"Oh, hey Dexter. New slaughterhouse worker found something pretty grim in one of those barrels." He points to five large metal canisters, all identical to the one in which I saw Lumen dump Daniels' body. I shield my eyes from the sun and point.

"In one of those? How come?" Angel stands up and shrugs, his mouth goes down at the edges like it does when he doesn't have an answer, it's a very Latin expression.

"Hey, no idea, amigo. Apparently it's his job to clean them out. Not the most pleasant job in the world but it got a lot worse today." I raise my eyebrows and nod. What did he find?

"Come and look at this!" It's Deb, walking out of the warehouse behind us and shaking her head. Her lips are tight, she looks angry. I exchange a glance with Angel who puts his hands in his pockets. He's not going in there again. I nod to Deb and go into the shade of the warehouse.

Masuka is there with what's left of the bodies of two girls. From the decay I'd guess they've been here a couple of weeks. I make a quick guess that they are Daniels' first victims. This is why Lumen chose this place to get rid of him. There was poetry in her thinking. I smile to myself but then quickly make it a grimace when Masuka looks up from where he is taking samples.

"Dude, this city gets worse every fucking year," he says simply, with more feeling than I think I've heard from him before. I can only nod, but I take comfort in the fact that I know that the monster responsible for these two little bodies has been dealt with.

"Is there something I can do? Have you done the DNA swabs? Is there any blood? Wound patterns?" Masuka shakes his head.

"No, just this slash to the throat, just like the others. Left to right, deep cut, they bled out pretty much instantly I think." He stops talking and looks out of the dark mouth of the warehouse, out into the sunshine. "Is it me Dex, or do these things seem extra sick on days as beautiful as this?" He waves the gloved hand, still holding a scalpel for scraping in the direction of the light. I watch the bright gleam of the meal and nod.

"Call me if you need any help. I'll be outside." I say and he nods and goes back to work. Not one comment about threesomes, any crude innuendo or sly remark. Shit, he must be fucked up about this.

I walk over to where Quinn and Deb are talking; a uniformed cop is taking the witness to the station now Quinn has finished with his questions.

"What's in the other canisters?" Deb is asking, pointing at the other large metal tubs along the wall. I frown, which one was Lumen's? I can't tell.

"Acid." Says Quinn reading back his notes. "It's how they get rid of the carcasses. That guy's job is to clean the empty ones. Except, this one wasn't empty." He frowns and shakes his head. Acid. She's better than I thought. Acid designed to eat through animal corpses will eliminate any evidence of human remains and, unless you're going to sift through the contents with some pretty heavy methods, you'll never get caught. Unluckily for him, Bryan Daniels wasn't so smart.

"You think it's the same guy as downtown?" I say to Deb. She looks at me though the lenses of her sunglasses, the dark brown of the glass making her seem tired. She nods.

"Yeah, MO is the same. God fucking damn!" she kicks the ground violently. "Why can't we just catch this cocksucker?" She clenches her jaw.

"Are there any newer bodies? These have been here for weeks." I say, looking at Quinn. He gets my point.

"Maybe this guy's moving through? We haven't got any newer movements on him than last weekend. Seems weird that he'd suddenly stop and start like this. Maybe we should put the word out? See if anyone else has had something like this recently?" Deb nods, already turning back to the car, disgust with what she's seen written in the lines of her body. Quinn looks at me.

"Make sure she's ok." I say to him, he puts his tongue out and rubs it along his lower lip like he's thinking. He nods curtly.

"I will." He pauses and I can see he's uncertain of what to say next. "Deb says we might have the kids this weekend..." I look at him. He raises his eyebrows like he's wondering if he's said something wrong. I just nod. I don't like Quinn. He had Liddy follow me, thought I had something to do with Rita's death and now he's living with my sister. I don't find any of that behaviour endearing. "Yeah, well, just wanted to say that's great. Cody and Astor are... great kids." He ends and I nod again. "And Harrison," he says hastily. I nod again.

"Right, well, I'll go find Deb," he says and walks away. I can tell he's cursing me under his breath.

I go back to the SUV when I've checked with Masuka that there's nothing for me to do. I re-check the samples he's taken. Anyway, Deb's right, the last thing we need is LaGuerta on our backs about shoddy forensic work. I sit in the car and think about how close Lumen just came to being part of an investigation. Her ideas have creativity but they're not cold enough, not calculating enough, to keep her out of harm.

"She needs you Dex." Harry says, looking out into the bright sunshine to the dark doorway of the warehouse. "You need to teach her how to follow the Code." I nod and start the engine. Harry's right, Lumen needs me if she's going to carry on killing. I'd never make a mistake like that. Maybe she can teach me about how to be human and I can teach her how to be a monster. I smile, a marriage made in hell.

I take out my phone to call Astor and get the kids' pizza orders; maybe we should take Sonja too? It never hurts to be in the nanny's good books, especially when you never know when you might have to pull a night shift. The screen says I have a message. I notice my thumb trembles as I open the phone to read.

"Would love to see you. How about Saturday at 1? The cafe by the marina? Where we used to meet? L'. I look at the phone for a long time, reading and rereading. I realise I am smiling.

**So, you guys have been awesome so far and I hope I can keep your interest. I know you're all dying for Lumen and Dexter to get together and that chapter is written but you have to wait a little while. The characters have ideas of their own and when I settle down to write something I have to let go and let them have the reins. Thanks for the kind reviews and comments. You make this so much more fun. **

**Thanks VB for the commas, capitals and care. Cx**


	11. The Meeting

The next 43 hours seem to drag and speed by simultaneously, depending on whether fear or hope is presently at the wheel of my thoughts. I go to work but we've no current case, so I trawl through the backlog of paperwork that I accumulated in the busy weeks after Harrison's birthday, the days where I was at work so often LaGuerta suggested I move my bed in to the office. I had to keep busy, stay distracted.

I'm typing up yet another blood sample result when Masuka comes in, he's early for a Friday but then I see he has the samples from the slaughterhouse on his desk so I figure he wants them done before the weekend.

"Hey." I look up from the laptop and smile. Masuka nods to me and unpacks his sample bag onto the work surface. I frown, what's wrong with him?

Four more attempts at conversation fail and I don't know what I've done. This sort of thing bothers me, it always has done. It's not a symptom of my new state of mind, people not speaking to me usually means I have done something I shouldn't. A dangerous situation for a predator trying to blend in. I look up and see Angel making coffee in the small kitchen area.

"Coffee, Vince?" Masuka barely glances up from the microscope. He grunts and shakes his head. I raise my eyebrows and scoot the chair back. I grab my phone, I'm not going anywhere without it these days, push it into my pocket and make for friendlier waters.

"Hi Angel." To my relief Angel looks up from where he is pouring and gives me a big smile. Reprieve floods me; at least I haven't managed to get the entire team pissed at me for some unknown reason.

"Hey Dexter, coffee?" he waves the pot and I nod.

"Thanks, I need it." He frowns questioningly. "Masuka," I explain looking over to where the small Asian guy is tutting to himself loudly and banging equipment about. Angel nods slowly as he passes me the cup.

"Ah." he says enigmatically.

"What? What's going on with him? He won't even speak to me." I sip my drink and watch Angel's smile get wider. I start to get suspicious. "What's going on?" I tip my head and look at him. Angel waves us into a corner, out of sight of the rest of the floor.

"Deb told me what you said to Vince. Priceless by the way, just priceless." He kisses his fingers.

"And?" I frown; who knows a glimpse of humour could cause such a stir? Mostly my attempts at comedy go down badly. I remember pushing Astor in the pool. It seems I'm getting worse.

"Well, I couldn't resist, amigo. Masuka mentioned this to me yesterday before the slaughterhouse call. He was telling me he was amazed you'd never said anything to him before, considering you knew his interests in the area." Angel is laughing now. Vince is annoyed that I hadn't broached the subject of my professed deviancy to him before? This is new. I thought deviants kept it quiet.

"He was amazed? Right." I nod, not sure where this conversation is going but Angel doesn't notice, he's too busy laughing.

"Yeah, right. So I just told him I already knew. You should have seen his face. You know, I think he actually thinks that you and I..." He waves his coffee cup between us and wipes a tear from his eye with one hand. He doesn't finish the sentence. I put my hand on Angel's arm.

"Wait. Vince thinks you and I have... shared?" I can feel my incredulous expression but it doesn't even cover it. To realise that Vince would believe this about me, about Angel, makes me wonder why I tried so hard to be normal all that time. People will believe anything. There is no authentic, universal human condition. They're all freaks. _We_ are all freaks, I amend myself and smile.

Angel takes this smile as approval for his joke. I peer round the corner to where Vince is now staring right at the kitchen space. He obviously saw Angel and I disappear into the back. Great. Angel looks too, sees Vince's expression and laughs louder.

"Watch this." He says, still unable to keep a straight face. He walks from the kitchen to his desk. He doesn't look at Vince but as he passes his line of sight he fans himself with his hand, as though the office is very hot. I frown, the air conditioning is blasting, it always is, LaGuerta likes things cool while she works. Then I see Vince's expression and realise how he has interpreted the gesture. I shake my head. They're worse than kids. This is what happens when we haven't got a case on. Not for the first time, I pray for a murder.

By the time Deb gets in around lunch, Vince won't even look at me. I see her glance our way and frown and I try to show her with my expression that I need some help. She starts to come over but Angel intercepts her and he says something and Deb laughs like she's going to cry. I sigh and turn to Vince.

"Look, Vince. I don't know what I've done to upset you but this is really uncomfortable." He doesn't say anything for a moment but then he glances up from the notes he's reading.

"Dex, I thought we were friends and then you drop this... this bombshell on me. Dude." He shakes his head. "I don't know you, man." I sigh, twist my mouth and think to myself that it's just as well I lied to him if this is what self revelation does.

"Vince, there's all sorts of things you're not supposed to know about a person." As I say the words I realise that they are true. "There are things I don't want to know about my friends." He turns to me, eyes accusing behind the round lenses of his glasses.

"So, we're friends then?" I shrug and then realise this is not the right response. I nod hastily and I see his shoulders go down.

"Yeah, of course we are. You were at my wedding, Harrison's birthday, yeah, we're friends." He nods and seems a little mollified. "But I don't ask you about... personal stuff." He blinks.

"But you could if you wanted to, I'd tell you, you know." Yes, he would, that's the problem.

"Ok, right. But I'm a lot more..." Secretive? Deviant? Dangerous?

"Shy than I am?" He finishes for me and I nod gratefully. He nods too, I can see him thinking. "So, I guess I should be happy you told me about the hot threesome at all, huh?" Hot threesome? He's adding his own adjectives here and I really don't want to follow him down that particular path. I nod again. He turns back to his work.

"If you ever want to know anything, dude, or need a wingman..." I shake my head and then just bite my lip. He waggles his eyebrows and I mumble a thanks, which I hope is non committal. Satisfied he goes back to work. I am just relaxing into the silence, just thinking that I dealt with the situation quite well, when his head comes back up.

"So, as we're sharing, when did you get it on with Angel? What's he like?"

I'm worried that Cody and Astor are thinking I am farming them off on various friends and babysitters so I hire a DVD on the way home from work. I scan the shelves realising how little idea I have about what they want to watch. In the end I go for a Harry Potter. I'm not sure which episode of the epic story I am taking but the girl behind the counter assures me that even if they've seen it, they'll watch it again. I get into the SUV feeling pleased with my spontaneity. Maybe we can get Chinese food too? Harrison's travel crib can go into my room until we've finished watching and eating. I really need more room, I think for the twentieth time since the kids arrived.

Sonja walks them all down to the car and I thank her for the week and make arrangements for Monday morning. Cody and Astor only have two more weeks left with me and I want to take some time off work to spend with them.

"Sure Dexter, just let me know when you want them. Bye Harrison, enjoy the weekend with your daddy. Astor thanks for all the help you've been this week, my darling. Cody, don't forget to show Dexter what you made at the museum this afternoon."

The journey back to the apartment is noisy, Astor singing to the CD which she has insisted we play, Harrison shouting wordlessly out of the window at passing dogs, trucks, trees and Cody trying to explain how the robot works which he made out of egg cartons at the museum this afternoon. Even though it's loud and I can't think, it makes me smile.

"So, we're spending the afternoon with Deb tomorrow?" Astor says, breaking from the chorus of the song and turning to me. I nod and glance at her.

"Yeah, is that ok? I just have something to do." She nods.

"I like Deb. She's funny."

"Yeah, and she keeps trying to remember not to curse when we're there, too." Cody chimes in and they giggle. I wince. I can imagine.

"Yeah, well Deb is... expressive." I say and we all laugh, they're growing up so fast.

"So, what are you doing tomorrow afternoon?" asks Astor, looking at me out of the corner of her eye.

"Just meeting a friend." I say keeping my eyes firmly on the road ahead. She nods and I see a little smile play on her lips.

"Good. Good for you, Dex." She says quietly. Even the kids are on to me.

Personally, I can't see why Voldemort doesn't just kill everyone Harry knows and then wait for him to break. Or just use a handsaw instead of a wand. It's what I'd do and I'm not an all powerful wizard but, oh well, I guess it's just a film. The kids seem to like it, Cody getting up and acting out the magical battles and I can see that Astor wants to be Hermione. I look at the screen but it's not this particular story I am contemplating.

My mind is playing over possible scenarios for tomorrow afternoon. Will she be early or will I be there first to worry about if she's going to show up at all? Who will speak first? What the hell am I going to say? In the end I get a beer from the fridge, tell Cody he can't have a taste, and make some more popcorn while they sit, the flickering blue light from the screen playing over their faces. I see the corn fluffing up and changing in the door of the microwave and try not to think about how I am changing too. In a strange way, I imagine Rita would be proud of me now. Looking after the kids, making such an effort with Lumen.

"It's true, Dex." Harry leans against the counter and nods. "You're developing more than I ever imagined. Maybe one day soon there'll be no more Dark Passenger to worry about at all." I frown. Do I want that? The Dark Passenger causes me problems, sure, but I can't imagine life without those desires, that eternal countdown in my head to the next killing. I stop and feel for that countdown, it should be strong; it's been a long time since I hunted. Strangely the sensation is faint and it makes me wonder if my dark lusts were somehow sated by watching Lumen kill. It would be an interesting turn of events.

The microwave beeps and I take the popcorn back to the sofa. An hour later the film ends and Astor pushes Cody to the bathroom while she makes up their beds. I fetch Harrison and she holds him while I bring his crib back into the lounge.

"Night guys." I ruffle Cody's hair and he hugs me around the waist. Astor kisses my cheek.

Oddly enough I sleep well and only the bright sunshine through the blinds and the sound of Harrison crying next door wake me from a dreamless slumber. I hear Astor hushing him and then the sound of her making him his breakfast of porridge. I fold my arms behind my head and try to think.

There's no use trying to plan, I'll have to wing it, play it by ear and hope it doesn't end up like the mess I got into last time I was off the cuff, with Oscar Prado and 'Freebo'. I sigh and roll over. At least I didn't dream about her again, it's as though my brain, knowing it would see her today, gave me a night off. Thanks.

I lie there for another minute before I hear Cody announce he's going to make pancakes. That gets me out of bed; this is not the day to have the apartment burn down.

"Hey troops!" I salute as I come into the kitchen and rescue the frying pan from Cody's hands. He grins at Astor and I realise I have been set up, I grin. "Ok, so that plan worked. Thanks guys. Now, what shapes do you want this morning?" I kiss Harrison who is too young for pancakes; he's helping himself to porridge while Astor feeds him with another spoon.

"Moons." Says Cody instantly, I nod.

"Stars." Astor grins and I realise she has grown out of, and back into, pancake shapes, for some reason this makes me happy.

"Then a constellatory breakfast it shall be." I flourish the pan and in a few minutes we're all around the breakfast bar eating.

"Have you got time this morning to help me with my science project for school, Dex?" Cody asks as he finishes his last mouthful. I'm still chewing so I nod. "I have to write about how the cops use forensics to catch bad guys." I give him the thumbs up, just my field of expertise.

We spend the rest of the morning making fingerprints with sticky tape and scraping 'samples' into jars. By the end of our endeavours Cody has a pretty realistic sample kit set up. I remember one last thing and find him some latex gloves, he grins as I pass them to him.

"Thanks Dex, this is going to blow them away at school!" I grin.

"Just don't leave gunpowder residue on your fingers, so you don't get caught." I laugh and he chuckles.

"Are you getting changed before you go out or are you going to wear that?" Astor indicates my pale blue shirt which is beginning to show the effects of the heat of the morning. I look down.

"I should change?" Am I really asking a teenager for sartorial advice? She looks me over and nods. "What do you suggest?" She frowns and then goes into my room, I hear the closet open. Cody looks at me, eyebrows raised. I'm just hoping she doesn't decide to investigate the trunk. She comes back with a purple polo shirt. I don't think I've ever worn it.

"I like this." She says holding up the hanger against me, Cody comes around and glances an appraising eye over me. He nods.

I have to admit, once I put it on, that it looks ok. I shake my head at the man in the mirror who looks pretty uncomfortable and was just dressed by an adolescent girl.

"You look great," Astor says when I come back into the room. I nod, unsure of what the correct response should be to this comment.

"Awesome," says Cody. I laugh. There's a knock at the door and it's Deb and Quinn.

"Hey guys!" Deb swings Harrison over her head and he giggles. Cody and Astor hug her and then smile at Quinn. He's carrying about four bags.

"What's this?" I ask, pointing. He raises his eyebrows.

"We're going for a picnic on the beach," he says, he sounds thrilled. He turns to Cody. "You got a ball we can kick about?" Cody nods and goes off to rummage in his belongings.

"Ok, so I'll call you when I'm done," I say to Deb and she looks at me seriously. She hands Harrison to me and I kiss him. "Be good for Auntie Deb," I tell him, he gurgles. As they leave, Deb turns to me, she's the last to go; Cody and Astor are helping Quinn with the bags.

"Just be honest Dex. Be that guy I met in the coffee shop at four in the morning." She kisses my cheek and I nod. "Good luck," she says.

I sit in the car outside the marina for a few minutes. The clock on the dash says it's five to one but my watch says it's five past. I don't bother looking at my phone because it's just going to confuse me even more.

"It doesn't matter what the time is, Dex," Harry is looking at his own watch and I wonder briefly what time it says. "Whatever's going to happen is going to happen. Que sera, sera." I raise my eyebrows, is he going to sing? He looks back at me like he doesn't understand why I'm smiling. I shake my head.

"Ok, I'll just go." I grab my phone, check my wallet is in the pocket of my khakis, and get out of the car. It feels like a long walk to the coffee shop door.

She's already there. In the middle seat by the window, where I used to watch her shred those sugar packets. She doesn't look up when I come in but I know from her small smile as she looks down at the table top that she already knew it was me. She looks over as I approach the table and all the ideas I had, all the plans and speeches, go right out of my head as she smiles. Her blonde hair is tied back and it looks a little shorter than before. Her violet t shirt makes the skin on her arms look brown and I notice a snaking line of a scar which disappears under the neckline and emerges at her sleeve. I realise I am clenching my jaw.

"Hi, Dexter," she says, standing up and then sitting down as I slide into the seat opposite her. There's a book on the table in front of her, a small paperback of poetry.

"Hi." Her face is shining in the light reflected from the water outside. Her eyes, so dark that they're almost black, seem to be memorising my face.

"I haven't ordered." She says as a waitress comes over.

"Just a coffee for me," I say and Lumen nods.

"Me too." She smiles at me again. The waitress goes away and no one speaks. We just look at each other.

"When did you get back to Miami?" I ask. I don't know what to say to her, all these scrambled feelings are fighting for air time.

"A couple of weeks ago. I had to come back." Hope makes me light headed for a moment. I bite my lip.

"Was home not right? Your folks?" she frowns.

"No, they were fine. It just wasn't... home." She looks up at me. I nod slowly, I don't know what she's telling me but I know how that feels, when home stops being home. "Dexter..."

"Yes?" She twists her mouth and closes her eyes tightly. Her full bottom lip trembles, its thinner partner tight over her teeth. I can see she's doing some infighting of her own. It's a painful expression and I can't bear to see it on her beautiful face. I sigh, she looks at me. I have to say something. I feel that door opening, glimpse a new life through the crack.

"It doesn't matter why you're here. I'm just glad that you are." I tell her. The waitress puts down our coffee, as she moves her arm away I can see that Lumen is smiling, tears are washing down her face, streaking her cheeks with light. She holds out her hand, palm up, on the table top. I put my own over it and close my fingers around hers.

**So they meet at last! How did that work for you? As always, you've been super lovely about reviewing. It's great that we;re getting more Dexter/Lumen fics on here and I really appreciate your support and encouragement. Thanks so much! Thanks to VB for her unstinting deication to commas! Cx**


	12. At the Marina

We sit like that, neither of us moving our hands, looking at each other and she wipes her face and smiles like she thinks she's being silly. I smile back and shake my head.

"Thanks for returning the glove," she says and I frown. I don't know what to say now; she must know where I found it?

"I... saw you drop it," I say and she nods quickly.

"Shall we go outside for a walk? We could probably talk better out there," she says and I nod. She pulls her hand away and grabs her purse. I leave money on the table for the coffees and we go.

Her hand bumps into mine as we make our way onto the decking of the marina, she glances at me and touches my fingers, I hold her hand. She smiles down at the floor. We walk for maybe five minutes without anyone speaking. It doesn't bother me, words will only crystallize or break what I am feeling and I am enjoying the moment of uncertainty where I can pretend it's all ok. She tugs my hand back as we reach a place to lean on the railing. We put our elbows on the bar and look out at the sea, doing its best to dazzle us with its jewel like reflections of the sun. Lumen exhales like she's preparing herself for something. It's the noise she made outside of Bryan Daniels' motel room. My stomach clenches. Here it comes.

"Dexter, I need to say something and I don't know what you're going to think but I need to say it all. Is that ok?" I nod, I can't look at her. The water glitters dangerously and I wonder how it would feel to just dive in, escape. She nods to herself, the way I've seen footballers talking to themselves before a big game. "Ok. I was wrong." She bites her lip and I glance sideways, afraid to hear what she has to say.

"I was wrong to leave. I was wrong about the darkness going. I was wrong to leave you." She puts her head in her hands and sighs. I look at the water, unable to move but my brain is rushing through what she just said, I'm still waiting for the catch. "Say something Dexter." It's her words from the morning of Harrison's birthday. I close my eyes. I choose the thing that seems most divorced from how I feel for her.

"The darkness hasn't gone?" She shakes her head, relief spills out of her; I can feel it from here.

"No. I think I was just glad it was over after Chase." She twists her mouth when she says his name. "But then I lay in my bed at my parents' house, the bed I've had since I was a girl, and I realised I am changed. It wasn't my bed anymore and there are more women out there like me and some who will be like me if we don't do what we do." I look at her. She's talking about us as though we are the same thing, the same type of creature. She looks at me and the electricity spins between us. She smiles, her mouth moving up slightly at one corner. She puts her hand tentatively on my cheek. I try not to flinch. Her touch is like fire.

"I made a choice when we started this; you told me it would change me. It did. If I can stop more people getting hurt then I have a duty to do it, because I can. That darkness is in me now. It's mine and I belong to it." Her fingers stroke my cheek. I am standing still, just looking at her. I want this to be real but I'm not sure I can trust my judgement.

"I saw you with Daniels." I don't know why I say it, it isn't the first thing I'm thinking, but it just comes out. She looks at me, her expression worried, maybe even frightened. She nods, bites her lip.

"I think I knew you were there before I saw the glove and the note. I could tell... somehow." She looks at her feet, it's as though she's worried about how I will react to what she's done. The situation strikes me as faintly ridiculous and terrifying. I can almost feel the weight of a new life pressing down on us from the universe. She looks back up at me; her expression is open and questioning. "What did you think?" Is she asking my opinion of her kill? I smile despite myself.

"Good. You were good." She smiles and I laugh. She chuckles and soon we are both laughing, this feels better. She grabs my hand again.

"Really? God, when I realised you'd seen me I thought you'd be so annoyed with me for not knowing you were there. It's the first rule isn't it? Don't get caught." She quotes the Code to me, Harry's Code, my Code. I shake my head in wonder and she frowns. "Were you angry?"

"No, I didn't know you were there when I went to Daniels' motel room earlier that day. I don't know why, usually I'd know right away but, I didn't. So, no, I'm not angry. It's not my business."

"It's not?" She looks away, blinking. I realise I have said the wrong thing. I frown, is how she kills, if she gets caught, my business? I want it to be. I say it; just put my thoughts into words without considering the consequences.

"I want it to be my business." We stand there and I don't know who is more surprised. What just happened?

"So do I." She reaches up her hand again and, this time, I press it against my cheek. I bend my head and put my forehead against hers. She kisses me softly. It's the best feeling I've ever had, the sharpest.

We breathe each other's air for a moment. Suddenly I can feel the heat of the sun; it is actually warming my skin. She pulls away.

"Were you... outside the bathroom... after..?" She looks right at me. I nod. "Sorry." She says quietly. Sorry? What is she sorry for? I don't get it. Considering the success of my last comment I try the new tactic again. Just say what you think, Dex.

"What are you sorry for?" She looks at the floor; I can see her face flush.

"I... I couldn't help it. It just... makes me think about you, want you. Oh god. How embarrassing." She closes her eyes, scuffs her foot on the floor and puts her hand in her pocket.

"It makes me want you, too. And I've done nothing but think about you, even when I didn't want to. It's been...distracting." I shake my head and she laughs. I laugh too. Something occurs to me. "It's what happened at the club. I was thinking about you, I realised too late that I can't just put someone else in your place. It doesn't work if I kiss someone else. I'm sorry."

"You didn't know I was coming back," she says, understanding me completely. This is so easy, what was I worried about? This woman knows me. I nod.

"Were you following me?" I ask her, watching her face even though I already trust her, old habits die hard. She nods, then shakes her head. It's such a familiar gesture, something I do all the time, that I smile.

"Yes, kind of. At first I wanted to talk to you, explain things. I hoped I could make it right with you, go back to how we were but then..." She pushes a stray hair out of her face and sighs. "Then it looked like you were just getting along without me. I wasn't sure if you even cared that I'd gone. Why would you? I was such a fucking idiot." She sighs and I put out my hand and touch her shoulder. She looks up at me.

"And then I realised you were following me too. Dexter, I was so scared. I fit the Code too now, don't I?" She looks up at me and her eyes are wet. Slowly the meaning of her words sinks in to my brain. She thought I was hunting her.

"I thought the same thing." Her head goes up sharply, her eyes search my face. I nod. "I did. I wondered if I was next. If you'd decided I was too much of a monster to leave alive." She shakes her head, saying nothing, her mouth open.

"No," she whispers it and she sounds horrified. "God, no. No, Dexter." She puts her arms out and I step into them. I hold her and she holds me just as tightly. I can feel her heart beating against my chest. My blood is rushing in my veins. There are still questions I need to ask.

"How did you find out about Daniels?" I ask. She pulls back and looks up at me.

"I met his daughter, at a survivors' meeting." Of course, Lumen is not going to try to deal with all this on her own. It took me years to try to get help, it's taken her months. "She told me about her father, that he was coming to town, she even mentioned where he was staying. Her mother had phoned to warn her, her mother! That woman hadn't helped Jessica at all. She was so scared, Dexter. So scared and then she stopped coming to the meetings. So I went to her apartment. I got the landlady to let me in. I knew he'd got her." Her tenacity, her precision, is amazing.

"How did you find out about the other girls?" This has been bothering me, how did she find two more victims? She looks guilty. I lift her chin with my fingers.

"Peter. My neighbour." I nod and something inside, the part of me Angel likes to call my 'Spidey Sense' is tingling. "He's a courier. I went with him one day when he was dropping something off at the station, samples, lab results. I thought if I saw you there I could speak to you, that we'd be in public so you wouldn't be able to be too angry." I sigh, I don't like the way that this has made her feel, how worried she has been.

"Peter knows I work there?" she nods.

"I haven't told him what you do. I just mentioned you worked down there and I wanted to come and see you. I pretended you weren't there. Anyway, while I was waiting for him I heard some cops talking about two more missing girls. Then I saw the others in the paper." So, Miami's finest missed the point again. Two missing children, one missing woman and four murders and no one pieced them together, no one except Lumen.

A mother with some small children parks a buggy by us and I tug Lumen's hand and we start to walk again.

"Then, when I checked his apartment I saw the pictures. It was what I needed to prove he deserved it. I was following the Code."

"Good work. Thorough research." She grins. "You nearly got caught out with your disposal though." I look sideways at her and she gasps. Her hand goes to her throat.

"Really? How?" I tell her about my visit to the slaughterhouse. I watch her face grow pale and then see her breathing with relief when I tell her what the worker found. She shakes her head.

"Another reason I need you." she squeezes my hand. I grin. "I need more training."

"Serial Killing 101." I smile and she laughs.

"It's not the only reason, you know." She stops me and kisses me again. I feel light-headed, delirious. Her soft mouth opens under my lips and I push my tongue forward. Energy zips between us as I taste Lumen, smell her perfume. She moans slightly and I pull her to me. We kiss slowly until I realise people are starting to notice. She giggles and pulls away.

She breathes out a big sigh and shakes her head.

"What?" she looks up at me as I question her.

"Nothing. It's just that... everything feels alright now. It's not felt alright for so long." I know what she means. I nod. "How's Harrison? Cody, Astor?"

"Good, they're with Deb right now."

"Does she know you're meeting me?" Lumen sounds amused; her head is on one side. I nod and watch Lumen's eyes go wide. "You told her?"

"Some. I told her I thought you were back. She told me to find you. I'm glad I listened." She squeezes my hand.

"I'm glad too."

We've walked around ourselves and back to the parking lot where the SUV is sitting, baking in the heat. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do now. I don't want to presume anything.

"Can we sit in the car? There are some things I want to talk to you about that..." She looks about her and I nod. I know what she means, some things are not meant to be overheard.

We climb into the car, she is back in the seat where I have been imagining her. She flicks her leg under her and sits sideways, looking at me.

"How much did you see of Daniels?" Her eyes are alight; I can see the memory of it in her dark pupils.

"Most of it. I didn't have a good angle."

"I used the knife you bought me, for the blood slide." I nod, she's so excited.

"Where did you get the slides from? Where are you keeping them?" She laughs.

"I got the slides from an internet company. I had to make an account and transfer money across." I nod and raise an eyebrow. She's thought about this. "And I'm keeping them in a box where I keep my tampons." I look at her, my expression saying this is not what I expected. Then I start to laugh, she laughs too and soon I can hardly breathe.

"Well, I figured it's the last place anyone would be looking by accident." She says, still smiling. I nod. She sits forward, her hands on my thigh. Her breathing is pronounced and sharp. "I've been dying to talk to you about it!" she says, realising her words and grinning.

"About Daniels?" she nods and sits back.

"It's not the same without you there. Well, you were there but we didn't talk. I've been remembering things and I wanted so much to talk them through with you. Is this ok?" I can't believe this, we're sharing kill notes. It's like someone read my darkest wishes and made them happen. Ever since I found out about Rudy, I've wanted to talk to someone about this intensity, this intimacy I find in death. I nod.

"I couldn't get the pieces small enough to carry at first. You must work out." I think back to the first garbage bag and how she struggled.

"I do, but next time I can carry them. Bigger pieces make it quicker to clear up." She puts her hand out again, holds my hand and I realise I have presumed we will do this together next time.

"Ok, thanks. It makes sense to work to our strengths." She's so businesslike, it's amazing. "And, if I was doing this myself, then I'd have to think about the size of my... clients." She grins. I nod and tell her about Little Chino, she listens to the story, gasping in the right places and laughing at the end.

"Wow," she breathes. "That must have been amazing. I wish I'd been there." I smile, this is so surreal. She looks at me suddenly, her gaze dark. I frown.

"Did you see him when I put the knife in? Did you hear the sound he made?" Her breathing is hitched and I watch the blood pulse in her throat. I try not to think about how that soft skin, puckered by the scar which slices across her shoulder, will feel under my lips. I nod, I can't say anything. I can feel my heart beating. She closes her eyes and her expression is sensual.

"God, Dexter," she breathes the words and they ignite my body, reminding me of how she sounded in the bathroom of the motel room. She opens her eyes. "That feeling, the feeling, when I push the knife down and I watch him...go. I end their influence on the world, rub them out of existence. It's just..." she closes her eyes again and takes a shuddering breath. I know just what she means. That power, that energy, which seems to rush over me as I take a life. The calm, the still which follows it. I see the intoxication on her face.

I put out my hands and grab her shoulders, she puts her hands out and takes hold of my forearms. Her willingness to come to me is exciting, encouraging. I pull her over the seat and onto my lap, scooting my chair back as I settle her on my knee. She is still in her trance, the memory of the kill still showing on her face. I kiss her hard and she pulls at my hair with her hands. Her tongue brushes along my lower lip. The energy runs through us both, this shared experience taking us higher. Her weight on my thighs is burning into me, she leans her elbows on my shoulders and crushes me to her chest. I breathe her in. She laughs shakily and pulls back.

"Oh god, it just..." She shivers again and smiles. I nod, biting my lip. "It does that for you too?" I nod.

"Yes, I just hadn't... pieced it together until I met you. The first time I saw you do it, how you climbed on the table..." I close my eyes and try to breathe. We're in a public parking lot, I remind myself. She laughs softly and kisses me again.

"Just think how good it'll be next time. When we're both there." She murmurs, as she kisses my ear. I fight the pressure to do something inappropriate to our surroundings.

She lays her cheek against my chest and I know she's listening to my crazy heartbeat. I kiss the top of her head. Everything feels better. I catch a glimpse of the clock on the dash. It's four o'clock.

"Lumen, are you busy tonight?" I feel her smile against my t shirt. She sits back up and shakes her head. "Do you want to come with me to collect the kids?" We look at each other. We both know this takes us to another stage of things, as if we need another stage. She nods.

"I'd love to," she moves from my lap, kissing me lightly. I push back my seat and start the engine. We drive in silence to the beach, both of smiling in the bright sunshine. Mr and Mrs. Monster.

**So, finally they have a talk. How did it go? thanks for your reviews so far, it really makes my day when you're so enthusiastic and kind! **

**Thank you VB for betaing and making me think about how I write! Cx**


	13. Ice cream and questions

We don't say much on the drive to the beach, both of us smiling, Lumen turning up the radio that I've found it so hard to listen to when she wasn't here. She's right, it all feels ok now, back to normal, how things should be. She reaches her hand across and puts it on my thigh, flexing her fingers over the muscle and grinning. I catch my breath and she grins wider.

"This," another flex, another breath from me, "is just right. I can't believe I ever left. What was I thinking? What an idiot. Thank you." I glance sideways, taking my eyes off the traffic for just a moment to take in her smiling face, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

"For what?" I look back at the road, telling myself I don't need to keep watching her, that we have all the time in the world.

"For taking me back, for not hating me," she says simply, sighing and flicking back her hair with one hand.

"I couldn't hate you for going, not if you had to go. I envied you that your darkness had gone." I realise that, in the light of her recent revelations this might not be the best thing to say, she laughs.

"And I envied you that it hadn't. All the way back on the plane I tried to feel for it." I shake my head, I can't believe it. "I know, how did I get so lucky?"

"What? Lucky?" I frown, she laughs again.

"I know, crazy right? I'm feeling lucky because I still want to kill and that means I get to keep you." I chuckle, she's right, it does sound crazy when you put it like that. "What can I say? I'm wrong on the inside." She smirks and I nod.

"We make quite a pair," I say wryly, she grins.

"I know, I hope the kids at kindergarten learn not to mess with Harrison." She is laughing. I frown.

"I'd never hurt a child," I say seriously, looking at her. Her face falls.

"I was joking. I know that, Dexter. Neither would I..." she sighs; I can see she's embarrassed for the bad joke. I put my arm across hers and squeeze her thigh, she smiles again.

"So, how do I deal with Deb? Is she going to ask questions?"

"We just say you came back. That you weren't sure about speaking to me because of how we broke up. The truth." She nods.

"Just miss out the 'killing monsters' part?" I nod and wrinkle my nose.

"It might be an idea to miss that part out." We laugh and then there's a silence again, apart from the DJ on the radio telling us what a beautiful weekend it is. And I have to agree.

We walk down onto the beach. I called Deb and she told us where to look for them so we spot them quite easily.

"Over there." Lumen points and I see Deb with Astor; Quinn playing football with Cody, throwing the ball high and long for him to catch. I'm guessing Harrison is napping in the car seat, there's a towel draped over it to hide him from the sun. As we get nearer I can hear some of Astor and Deb's conversation.

"So, is this ok? Dexter meeting this girl?" Deb asks Astor who looks up from where she's looking in the picnic bag. Astor nods.

"Yeah, I was real angry about mom but... it isn't Dexter's fault and he's a good man really. And that girl..." she looks at Deb.

"Lumen," Deb says, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, Lumen, what kind of name is that?" They laugh but it's not cruel. "When she went he was, I don't know, different, like he was faking it all for us." They notice our footsteps and look up; both sets of eyes go wide as they see Lumen, her hand in mine as we walk down the beach. They look at each other, Deb raises her eyebrows and Astor giggles.

"Hey Deb, Astor. How was the picnic?" I lift the towel to see Harrison snoring softly to himself. Deb scrambles to her feet. She is grinning like an idiot. She smiles at Lumen who smiles back. It's like some huge female joke I'm not in on.

"Good, we've got some things left if you're hungry?" She gestures to the bags and I shake my head. Then she looks at Lumen. "Hi, we didn't get properly introduced last time. I'm Deb, but I guess you know that." She laughs and shakes her head, puts out her hand. Lumen smiles and shakes it firmly.

"Hi Deb, yes, I know who you are this time. Nice to see you again." Deb looks Lumen right in the eye.

"Yeah, nice to see you again too. Really." They let go of each other's hands and I can see some bond forming between them.

"Astor." Lumen smiles warily but Astor gets up from the sand and smiles and it's a warm expression, she puts out her hand too, so grown up.

"Hi Lumen. Did you guys have a good afternoon?" She looks to me and raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, we did thank you." All three girls laugh. I begin to feel a little out of my depth. A ball whizzes towards us and lands at my feet.

"Come on Dex! We need a middle man!" Cody shouts and Quinn is laughing at the idea that Cody has decided that I should be in the middle. I wave and jog over to them, carrying the ball with me. Quinn greets me with a nod of the head.

"Thanks Cody, saved me from girl talk there." I ruffle his hair and he laughs.

"Yeah, they'll be talking about you. You should hear Astor talking about boys." He pulls a face. I look at Quinn with alarm and he grins back.

We pitch the ball between us for a while but it's never been one of my sports. I'm much better at lone competition, running, jujitsu. Teams just make me nervous, or want to kill someone. So, after a while there's no effort in my throw and Cody notices.

"Dex, can we get an ice cream?" he points to a shack halfway down the beach.

"Sure," I nod. "Quinn?" He shakes his head and lobs the ball back to where the girls are all now sitting, looking at a magazine Astor has produced from her bag. Deb looks up.

"Ice cream?" He asks as we three wander back to the blanket and the bags. Astor squints up at us and then looks at Lumen and Deb, gauging their reactions. Lumen nods.

"Fuck yeah! Oh...god, sorry kids," Deb flushes and the kids laugh. Quinn shakes his head and puts out his hand.

"Wanna walk with me to get them?" he says to Deb, probably thinking this is some chance for them to be alone.

"No, me and Dex'll go, right?" Deb answers, shaking her head. I look at Lumen and she nods still smiling.

"Good, then you can show me those shoes you were talking about buying," she says to Astor who grins and flicks through the magazine.

"More shoes? You already have bag of them back at the apartment." I mock grimace. Astor rolls her eyes and Lumen laughs. Deb grabs my hand.

"So, what's everyone want?" she takes the orders, writing on the back of her hand like we used to when we were kids and Harry would bring us down here. It makes me smile to think of it.

Deb and I set off down the beach, leaving Cody and Quinn teasing the girls about shoes and girl stuff. They all seem happy enough. Deb tugs my hand and I turn to her, eyebrow raised as though I don't know what's coming.

"Come on!" Her voice is exasperated, she shakes her long, straight hair. "So, what's happening? Looks good to me Dexter." I smile, nod and keep silent until she punches me on the arm.

"Seriously, don't make me kick your ass. Spill the beans! What'd you say? What'd she say? Was it romantic?" I rub my face with my hand and sigh, she sighs louder.

"I did what you said. I told her how I felt." She dances a little in front of me, trying to catch my expression. She is grinning broadly.

"You told her how you felt? Jesus, Dexter, that's like... fucking huge!" I smile and nod, I guess it is. "Did she see you in the club? Why did she come back to Miami?"

"Yes, she saw me. And she thought I'd got over her, that I wasn't interested. And I explained about the girl..."

"And?" Deb is too impatient for me to tell the story at my own pace. I shake my head, laugh.

"And she said she understood." I open my eyes wide and Deb does the same. "I know, I can't believe it either!" Deb throws her arms about me suddenly, throwing me off balance. Then she jumps back and straightens the hem of her shirt, pushes up her sunglasses.

"Sorry, it's just... you two..." She shakes her head a little, searching for the words. "You're just, so perfect together. Anyone can see it. It radiates off the pair of you. You're just made for each other." She sounds in awe, maybe a little jealous. I nod. She doesn't know how right she is.

"I loved Rita and all but... there's just... something about you two together. Anyway, that's great. Why did she come back?" She looks at me as we carry on walking. I glance behind us, Lumen is fastening Cody's shoelace. He can do it himself but I think he's enjoying the help. I smile.

"She came back because home didn't feel like home." Deb squeaks and I look at her. She's grinning so hard it looks painful.

"Because home is with you?" Her voice is high pitched and excited. I raise my eyebrows and nod slowly. "Woo!" She makes me high five her, people are staring. I laugh. We walk on, reaching the ice cream shack. Deb stops and turns to face me.

"That's great Dex, I really like her. Do not fuck this up, bro." She nods seriously, pulling down her glasses and looking at me over the top. I look scared and nod and she laughs.

We carry the five ice creams, licking their drips and trying not to drop them into the sand.

"Jesus, this motherfucker's going to be gone by the time we get back," says Deb, licking around the edge of the cone for the third time. The sun is hot and I'm glad I've got my shoes on, although it's hard to walk in the soft sand. I lick around the base of another cone and then up my fingers which are now sticky. I'm wishing for a wipe out of Harrison's changing bag. I don't like the mess.

"What are those scars she has?" Deb asks suddenly and it stops me in my tracks. I look and she is watching my reaction. "There's a nasty one that goes from her neck to her elbow. Where'd she get that? I don't like to ask her but I can ask you, right?" I walk on for a moment saying nothing. How do I answer this? What can I say that sounds plausible?

"Lumen has some issues in her past." My voice sounds flat and I can feel Deb staring. She nods to herself, no doubt remembering her own issues. With my brother Rudy who kidnapped her and strapped her to a table and tried to get me to kill her. It's a wonder she trusts anyone. I suddenly realise how alike she and Lumen are. Both survivors, both strong, doing what they want despite what happened to them. It's almost a shame they're on opposite sides of the law.

"Fuckers," Deb says it venomously, under her breath. We walk back to the others in silence now. I'm wondering what Deb is thinking. I've often wondered about her cryptic comment at Harrison's birthday when she said I 'must be happy now, now it's all over'. What did she mean? Is she fitting Lumen into some theory?

We hand the ice creams over carefully, Cody nearly drops his and there's a mad scramble of hands as we all help him. Deb and I sit down on the blanket and she leans against Quinn's shoulder. Lumen looks over at them and then leans back against me. I finish my cone and put my hand about her waist. Cody rolls his eyes and Astor smiles.

"What are your plans for tonight guys?" Deb asks us and then she scratches the side of her head, looking up at me in a way which suggests my answer might not be appropriate for the presence of minors. Lumen laughs and looks at me.

"I don't know, we'd not thought that far ahead." I answer looking over at Lumen who is still smiling.

"We could have the kids if you two wanted to go for dinner or see a movie?" Deb offers, looking over at Quinn who nods his agreement. "What about it guys? We could get the Wii out?" Cody and Astor cheer and Quinn laughs. I look at Lumen.

"What do you want to do?" She shrugs and puts her hand in mine.

"I don't mind. It'd be nice to spend some more time together though." I nod.

"Ok, that's settled. We'll all drive back to yours and then we can pick up Cody and Astor's sleep over stuff," says Deb, leaning back against Quinn and pushing her glasses up her nose. I see her wink at Astor, who smiles.

"Sleep over? We can swing by and pick them up later?" I say frowning. Lumen squeezes my hand.

"No, it'll be more fun if these guys stay over," says Quinn looking at me seriously like he's trying to convey some secret message. I look at him, confused. I see Deb and Lumen smiling, Astor hiding a grin in her hand. Right. I get it. I nod and smile.

"Yeah, that could be fun." We laugh, Cody looks confused.

Our laughing wakes Harrison, he starts to cry and Lumen lifts the towel so he can see us all.

"Hey little man," she says softly, stroking his forehead. He stops crying and starts to smile. He puts up his hands to her and she pulls him from his seat. "Oof, you're getting to be a big boy." She sits his bottom easily on her arm and holds him so he can see us all.

"Hey pal, have you had a nice day at the beach?" I ask him and Lumen passes him to me. He pats my face with his soft hand.

We spend about half an hour watching some surfers and laughing at the stories Cody makes up for the passers by.

"Those two are school teachers," he says pointing to two big women lounging under a sun shade. "Yeah, they're called Miss Take and Miss Shaped," Deb joins in.

"Yeah and see those two over there?" She points at an elderly couple holding hands as they walk along, the image of social acceptability. "They're a famous killer couple, like Bonnie and Clyde. They've been on the run from the law so long that the cops don't even know what they look like anymore." The kids are laughing hysterically, the image Deb paints is so preposterous.

"They rob their victims and go on sunny vacations with the loot," says Quinn, laughing with them all.

"But they've had to pick smaller victims recently, because of his bad back." Lumen chips in, tears streaming down her face, I start to laugh. Somehow everyone thinks this is funnier because it comes from Lumen.

"And they have to try not to leave their dentures at the scene of the crime." Everyone looks at me and then laughs louder. The couple pass us by, oblivious to their part in our hilarity. I catch Lumen's eye and she grins at me, wipes her wet cheeks. Deb jumps up from the blanket.

"Right, you guys, come on!" She starts to put things into the bags, directing Cody, Astor and Quinn to help her tidy up. Lumen and I fold the blanket while Harrison plays in the sand, letting the hot grains run through his fingers and laughing to himself.

"We'll follow you back to the apartment and pick up the kids' things." Deb pushes me off towards the SUV and she shows Quinn how to buckles Harrison's seat into the back of his car. He doesn't look very happy that his Mercedes is being made into a people carrier. Deb squeezes in the back with Astor and Cody gets in the front. This is ridiculous.

"Deb, we can take someone!" I yell over and she stands up out of the back seat, stretching. She looks at Cody and Astor and nods. Cody runs over to us and gets in the back of the SUV.

I make sure Deb can follow me as I pull out onto the street. Sometimes I forget that she's been to school to learn how to tail people. She'll be laughing at my early signalling and how I slow down when I get through the lights.

Lumen sits beside me and I try not to think about her staying the night, try not to imagine how that will be and, even though I am trying, it's not really working. She chats to Cody about school, what it's like at his grandparents, are they near Disney, does he like his room?

"I want to come home to Miami," he says suddenly, I look at him in the rear view mirror, he smiles. "I do, I want to come back. You haven't got enough room for us though have you?" he frowns. Lumen looks at me.

"Well, we could maybe get a bigger place," I say, glancing to her and see her smiling. "We'd have to talk to Astor though, and your grandparents." I look in the mirror and Cody nods again.

"It's just not home out there, Dexter," he says and looks out of the window. I look at Lumen and she puts her hand on my thigh again. I try harder not to think about tonight.

**Thanks so much for all your kind reviews so far. It's lovely to be sharing this 'Season' with you. There's more to come! Thanks to VB for commas, clearing up dialogue and being a great friend. Cx**


	14. Alone

There's a flurry of rushing about and packing overnight bags and forgetting things and coming back and then they're gone. And we're alone. I pick up Cody's wet towel and Astor's discarded sweater and then realise I'm doing the stalling thing again. I put them down and Lumen is leaning on the door, smiling at me. She shakes her head.

"What?" I ask, laughing at myself, but she shakes it again. "What?" I ask again, walking over to her, throwing down the sweater and the towel in a heap of stuff the kids have left. She puts her arms out to me and I step into them. She looks up at me.

"I was just thinking that I don't know what to do first." I frown at her, not really understanding what she's saying. "I mean, I've missed you so much. There are so many questions I've thought of that I want to ask you, so many things I have missed about being with you." She stands on tiptoe to kiss me. I feel her soft lips against mine and I can't seem to catch my breath. My knees feel weak, my pulse races. She pulls back and laughs, gasping for air herself.

"See? And then there's all that too!" I nod, biting my lip, unable yet to talk for fear that my voice would give away some of the trembling I am feeling at her touch. "What do you want to do first?" Oh no, trick question.

I pause and close my eyes. What am I supposed to say now? Automatically, I go into the cycle of thinking I would have had with Rita. Am I supposed to say sex? Because yes, god, I want her and yes, I have been thinking about it for a long time but I also want to savour this. Is that the wrong thing to say? Does Lumen want my desire to win out? Or am I supposed to say that I want to talk? Because yes, I want to do more of that intoxicating sharing. Hell, I've never been able to actually talk to someone openly. I can't second guess her. She puts her hands on my cheeks. I open my eyes.

"Hey," she says softly, "that wasn't a trick question. I can't decide whether I want to ask you all the questions I've dreamt up for you, dive on you and take you to bed or just enjoy sitting here with you. I really _was_ asking what you wanted to do." I nod, I have to remember this, she's like Deb. If she wants to know something, she'll ask. She doesn't do subterfuge.

"Can we do it all?" I ask, kissing her again. She twines her fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck and I put my hands on her waist. For a moment or two we let our mouths just wander, exploring what we have both been missing. She mumbles something and I pull back to check what she said.

"Not all at the same time, I just don't have the attention span," she giggles, "you're distracting."

"So are you," I smile. She throws herself on the sofa.

"Well, let's start out talking, and see what happens," she grins. "Have you got any beer?" I nod and get two bottles from the fridge. I pass her one and she takes a long drink. I sit at one end of the sofa and she sits at the other, our legs cross over each other.

"You first." I point the neck of the bottle towards her. She screws up her face, thinking.

"Have you killed anyone since I left?" She's right to the point and I have to remember that I'm allowed to be honest. It's like making an articulated truck do a U turn after all the years of lying.

"No." I shake my head. "Daniels was going to be the one, my distraction from you. But someone got there first." I raise my eyebrows, mock frown and she laughs.

"A distraction from me? You needed distracting?" I nod and drink my beer. How much of the animal inside does she want to see? She must notice something in my eyes because she leans forward, catching me in her gaze. "What? What was that? What were you just thinking?" I put my head back and look at her along the line of my nose.

"Yes, I needed distracting. Everything reminded me of you, all the time. Even when I was asleep my brain played out the memories, over and over, with embellishments. And then my body joined in." I bring my head back up, level my gaze, let her see it all. The naked animal, the wanting. She takes a deep breath.

"You dreamt about me?" I nod, her eyes are wide and the pupils are huge. Her usually dark irises are like coals and she puts down her bottle and comes towards me. She lies over me, her arms either side of my head. I flash back to how she straddled Daniels, the position almost exactly the same. I bite my lip and nod again.

She brings one leg up, over my hip, settling herself over my groin, still leaning forwards on her arms. She gently kisses my neck.

"What was I doing, in these dreams, Dexter?" The way she says my name, the way her breath is hot on my skin has me fixed to the spot. I almost dare not breathe in case this isn't real. My body doesn't need a second invitation, in a heartbeat I am hard. She leans back a little and smiles. She doesn't miss a thing. "Dexter?" Her nose is against mine, I reach up to kiss her but she pulls back a little. Her expression is teasing, questioning.

"Touching me." My voice sounds low, dark and she smiles slightly, a corner of her mouth lifting. She makes a noise, it's almost a growl, and then her hand moves down my body, over my chest, trailing fire in its wake and she cups my hard cock through the fabric of my pants. I push up against her, mouth open, eyes rolling back. It feels so good.

"Like this?" She says, her voice husky. I nod and she strokes along my length and it's too much. All the weeks of not thinking, all the sneak attacks by the combined forces of my libido and my memories burst through the dam. I open my eyes, she is looking right at me, into me. I reach up with my hands, holding her by the shoulder with one, she leans her weight on me while I caress her breasts with the other. Her eyes narrow, her mouth opens. I run a nail over her hard nipple and she hisses through her teeth and drops her head. Her hair falls around her face and she looks up at me. There is something feral in her expression, I recognise it from when she brings down the knife.

"Can we just fuck now?" I whisper the words because, somewhere inside me, I am still afraid she will say no. I look at her, watching for her reaction to the suggestion, the word. Have I been too direct? She smiles a slow smile, it's warm and darkly happy.

"Yeah," she nods and increases the pressure with her hand, I moan. "Yeah, we can definitely fuck now."

I push her back on the sofa, copying her position from before, as I grind against her and she arches beneath me. I know that both of us want this to last but the pressure is building. She pulls my head away from the kiss, grabbing my hair and forcing me to look at her. Her face is flushed, the pink blush down her neck into her t shirt, her scars stand out silver against the rose. Her lips are red, her eyes wide.

"We've got lots of time for slow, right." Oh, slow, she wants slow. Ok. Right. I push out a deep breath, almost scrabbling back from her, trying to still the rushing tide of desire. I should have known this would scare her. She frowns and grabs my shoulder, pulling the fabric of my shirt in her fist. "No, no. Dexter, I'm asking. We have plenty of time to go slow, right?" I nod, body and brain racing to keep up. She smiles and pulls me back for a kiss, her tongue darts between my teeth and I lose the race.

"Good, then let's do slow some other time." She reaches down and pulls the hem of my shirt over my head. It's an echo from the first time and I get the same feeling. The same wonder and confusion and hope. She smiles at me and grabs her own shirt. When it's gone, she pulls me down against her. Her skin sears me, I feel her rib bones against mine and the heat is scorching.

"Mmmm." She wriggles beneath me. I smile down at her and kiss the side of her mouth. "I want you so much, Dexter." I raise an eyebrow and then sit back, pushing up from her with my hand by her head. I unfasten my pants and pull them down over my hips, I'm about to stand and take them all the way off but she puts her hand on my lower stomach and stops me.

"That's enough, no time for being neat." She says, unbuttoning her jeans. She wriggles them down and pulls on one leg of the fabric, lifting her hips to move them down. Her panties follow. I hold her leg under the knee and tear the denim down, leaving the other leg still dressed. She grins.

I look down at her and the feeling is like nothing I have ever experienced. The possibilities, the openness are all there in her posture, her smile. Simultaneously we reach for each other. I stroke my hand down the soft skin of her thigh until she is gasping and arching. My fingers find her hard and wet and we both moan as I tease my thumb over her clitoris. After a few strokes she seems to recover and her hand finds me and she mimics my movements with her slim fingers along my length. I watch her and she watches me.

There's a kind of sacredness, a holiness in the moment. Neither of us need to speak, there is no call for instruction or encouragement. When I know the time is right, I move her hand away from me, she lets it lie back alongside her head, the gesture vulnerable, mind blowing. Still moving my thumb in small circles, the other hand underneath, lifting her hips, I enter her. Her body tenses, her eyes roll back and she arches towards me. I go slow, even though every fibre of my being is shouting for me to take her, make her mine.

"Oh, Dexter." She opens her eyes, her cheeks shining and her mouth is a smile. She pulls me down against her and I slide slowly all the way in, my arm trapped between us, my thumb still moving. She hooks a leg over the back of the sofa and I go deeper still. I see my expression, eyes wide, mouth gasping, mirrored in her face. I smile and she smiles with me.

I rock my hips forward and her hips move to meet me. Slowly, carefully, we savour the sensation of union. I look at her and I hold nothing back. I feel her muscles begin to clench around me and I try to slow down but she pulls me to her, one hand on my hip and the other on my face.

"Time," she gasps out as I thrust forward, "time for slow later." She pushes back against my shoulders, the angle forcing me deeper and I let go of control.

All there is, is Lumen. Lumen's breathing, her body enveloping and consuming me, her heat, the crush of her muscles. I feel them tightening, feel her owning me, making me hers and I spiral out from this moment. She shudders underneath me, pulling me down over her and wrapping her arms about my back as she clings to me.

"Dexter, Dexter, oh god," she calls out, her voice becoming a hiss as I feel her body calming. It is the sound she made in the motel bathroom. Unbidden, I see her bringing down the knife, the violent pleasure on her face and I come hard, shouting her name, frightened by the intensity of this experience. Not wholly carnal and not wholly cerebral but a fierce amalgam of both.

I lie over her, I drag the breath in over my lungs, listening to the blood rushing in my ears. She kisses my cheek and I turn my face, almost afraid to look at her now we have shared this intensity, this intimacy.

"Wow," she says, smiling, and I nod. "That was better than I remembered. And I'd remembered it being pretty good." She laughs. I pull back on my arms and slide carefully away from her. She stretches like a cat and then frowns. I sit back on my haunches.

"Was that ok Dexter? Are you ok?" She reaches out her hand and her fingertips brush against my stomach. I nod, I feel overwhelmed, like something life changing has just happened to me. Lumen sits up and puts her arms around me, presses her hand to my cheek. "Dexter?" I frown, trying to find words for how I am feeling. As though in slow motion I see Lumen begin to cover herself with her hand, somehow this sharp image cuts through the numbness.

"I'm fine." I bend down and kiss her, moving her hand away from her body and putting it back around my shoulder. I kiss her neck and breathe in the scent of her skin, her hair. "I think I'm just a little stunned." I laugh and I see her smile. I struggle back into my pants, standing up so I can fasten them even though I am sticky and a little uncomfortable.

"We could have a shower?" I am volunteering to shower with another person, will wonders never cease? Lumen pulls on her panties and jeans and grins up at me.

"Maybe later, washing can wait. I've got things I want to know!" I laugh and pass her the now warm beer. "I'm glad we got that out of the way. Didn't want it to get awkward but I've wanted to do that since I met you at the cafe." She says clinking my bottle with hers.

"Mm. I know what you mean. It was only going to make things tense, huh?" I grin and she leans against me as she drinks her beer.

"Yeah, and we can always break off and do it again if there's a lull in the conversation. I guess we don't need to worry that we'll get bored." She sighs and I put my arm around her. We sit like that for a minute, bodies sated, minds racing. She sits back and looks at me.

"So, who was your first?" I frown, is she asking about ex girlfriends? My experience with this tells me this is not a happy path to take. She sees my expression and laughs.

"Not your first, Dexter! Your first kill!" I sigh, visibly relieved, and she laughs at how ridiculous it is that I am more comfortable with talking about victims than ex girlfriends. I suppose she's right.

"Nurse Mary," I say, leaning back against the cushions, watching Lumen's eye go wide.

"So, this was... before the Code?" She says this in a whisper, a part of me shelves the idea away for later consideration. I shake my head and she frowns.

"No, Nurse Mary wasn't a nice nurse." I sniff and she laughs. "It was when my foster father, Harry, was in hospital. He noticed this nurse was giving her patients too much morphine. She was killing them off. Who know how many people she'd 'helped' already?" Lumen nods.

"So, until her you hadn't killed anyone?" I shake my head and stretch out my leg. She rubs her hand across my foot idly.

"No, Harry didn't give me permission to do anything like that until he'd made sure I understood the Code."

"So he trained you?" I nod, remembering all the lectures, the hunting trips which Deb so envied. I realise, not for the first time, that Harry has kept me alive. Without his teaching I'd be another name on Death Row. "Like you're going to train me?" I look up at her and she smiles.

"I think we already started that training. You've got three kills under your belt now." She gets up and goes to the fridge, coming back with two more beers.

"Before the first one, the nurse, did you still have the darkness?" I frown, this isn't easy to admit, even though I know the answer. If I tell her that the urges, the need to kill, has always been there, for as long as I remember, will she be able to deal with that? She prods me with her foot. The gesture is so domestic, familiar, that I can't help but smile.

"Yes. Yes it was still there. I didn't know what it was at first. Sometimes it felt like rage or like an itch you can't scratch, a discomfort with my skin that I couldn't shake off." She holds my foot tightly in her hands and I daren't look at her.

"Did you kill other things, animals?" Oh god. People are so sentimental about animals, if I tell her about the dogs, the cats, I don't know what she'll think. I nod, not looking at her, staring straight ahead.

"It was like some secret I kept from myself. You know, I would do it and then pretend to everyone, even to myself, that it hadn't happened, like it was a part of me I compartmentalised, locked away even from my conscious thoughts. I'd be ok for a while and then I'd have to do it again, and again.

My mind would be scoping out a good victim, someplace to do it, the right time and I would try not to listen to it but... in the end I always caved." I can hear her breathing. This is like catharsis, I have to say it all. I turn to look at her.

"Can you imagine how it felt to finally have permission? To have someone I trusted tell me it was ok to do the things I was hiding even from myself?" She holds my gaze, she doesn't let me go. "After all those years, all those furtive, hidden moments that I couldn't even think about when I was on my own, to finally, finally, be allowed to let the Dark Passenger out and not be ashamed? To have a justification to do what I had to do?" She doesn't nod, but she doesn't look away either. This is like the sex, intimate, terrifying, real and intoxicating.

"One of the first times it was the neighbour's dog. My foster mom, Doris, was sick and the dog just kept barking and barking all night, all day. She couldn't sleep. I'd watch her weep with the fatigue." I rub my hand over my face. There is a long beat of silence.

"So you made your own Code until Harry gave you his." Lumen says it quietly, matter of factly. I look at her, expecting to see disgust, anger in her eyes. Instead she looks at me, just the same as she did before, open, interested. "You killed the dog because it was causing someone pain. Then Harry gave you the Code and you channelled your darkness. How many people's lives have you saved Dexter?" I look at her, not understanding her question.

"How many people's lives have you saved by killing the monsters?" She leans across and kisses my cheek, slipping her hand through my arm and pulling me to her. "And now we'll save even more. Together."

**Ok, I ma posting this with fear and trepidation in my heart. Hope it lives up to expectations. Thanks so much for all your support and encouragement with this fic. It's great sharing it with you. Don't just favourite, review and let me know what you like! Thanks VB for commas and making it make sense. Love you Cx**


	15. Morning after

Lumen leans over me, her soft hair traces across my chest, leaving sparks across my body. The hot skin of her thighs rests over my lower stomach, I can feel her, wet, against me. My body responds because I have no choice. She draws me, pulls me towards her inexorably, like a magnet. I groan her name, I arch up towards her and I wake.

I don't open my eyes because I know this is another cruel dream. I lie still and feel the dream unfolding, I cling desperately to her presence, knowing that, if I open my eyes, she will be gone.

Her fingers trace across my scars, the one across my ribs, my left upper arm, my right. Their gentle caress does nothing to halt the mounting pressure in my body. Her soft hands travel down my stomach, bypassing my aching erection and moving down to my knees, feeling, exploring me like I am a new land. I can't hold the dream much longer. I know I have to move, open my eyes, and she will be gone. I sigh, the sound already gathering her up into the darkness to vanish her again and leave me lonely.

"Are you all awake now?" Her voice sounds amused. I open my eyes and she is there, over me, her eyes bright in the moonlight from the slatted blinds which cuts across her body. She is naked and she is real. I half sit up, struggling to lean on one elbow, trying to make sense of this dream made reality. The events of last night, the last few days, begin to filter into my sleep mazed brain. I smile and flop back on the pillow. She chuckles.

"You know, I didn't know how you'd react to my... exploring," she says, smiling gently, "but I woke up and here you were, all naked and..." she shudders and makes a predatory noise which makes me think she might eat me alive, "...nice." I blink and stretch, what do I say now?

"And then I realised that part of you was awake." She grins and brushes her hand over my erection, I feel that rush of heat, the pressure threatening to break free. "So we just waited for the rest of you to catch us up." I laugh and it becomes a moan as she strokes me with her hands. I move to sit up and she puts one hand on my chest, pinning me in place.

"No, stay there, I want to watch you." Her voice is dark and it makes me tremble, but it's not fear which makes my blood rush, my world shrinks to the part of me she holds in her hands.

Long strokes, gentle at first and then with more determination when she sees the effect she is having on me. Her expression one of focus, concentration. She bites her lip and catches her breath as I arch under her touch, unable to control what my body, my hips are doing. I belong to her.

I groan her name and she smiles, a slow, lopsided smile. I can see she's enjoying this. She leans over me as I start to come, I can't help myself, I put my arms out to her and she leans into my crushing embrace.

"You're mine, Mr Monster," she whispers as I spill over her hands and fall back on the bed. "All mine."

I want to return the favour, roll her over and taste her but the heaviness of sleep is already stealing over me.

"Lumen," I whisper, "I want to..."

"Shh," she strokes my forehead, down my chest, her hands soothing, drawing the sleep over me. "There's time for that later."

Brightening sunlight bars the room with bands of shade as the sun rises. I wake and feel her weight against my shoulder, her hair on my skin. I look down and she is turned away from me, resting her head against my outstretched arm, her right hand falling back over my hip. Her body, her scars exposed. I look at her in wonder.

She is breathing slowly, her stomach and chest rise and fall softly with each breath. I bring my other hand around and stroke the smooth curve of her belly. She shifts and sighs. I fit my hand to the bone of her hip, marvelling at how my fingers mould themselves to her skeleton, like we were made to fit together. I dip my head and breathe in the scent of her hair. I watch how the light picks out the shiny puckered flesh of her scars. I bring my hand back up across her body, feeling those scars like ridges under my fingers. She is a paradox. These scars tell of violence; fear and danger written in their jagged lines but here she lies in my arms, peaceful and safe. She's so strong.

I stroke my hand up, over the curve of her breast, feeling the nipple harden as I press my palm over the soft skin. She shifts in her sleep, leans further back against me, her leg falls to one side. The gesture chases out any innocence in my actions.

I curl the arm she is lying on so that I can use both hands. I pull each nipple gently, in turn. She falls back, over my chest, onto her back, her arms out and body open as she stretches. Lying half beneath her, still holding one breast, I sweep my broad hand down over her navel and rest it on the curve of bone just above the juncture of her legs. Her body jerks as it anticipates my next move. I know she is awake.

She lays very still, her breathing short and her eyes flicking under her eyelids. Her expression is sharp, alert.

"Hey, Mrs Monster," I whisper, as I move my hand and stroke her hair from her cheek, then back down her flank to rest in its former place. Her arm crooks up behind me and she moves her face to kiss me. She is smiling now.

"Hello." Her voice is hoarse with sleep.

"Just relax, I was just doing some exploring of my own." She smiles sleepily and I feel her muscles letting go, she lies back against me.

My hand strokes the soft skin inside her thigh, I brush the damp tangle of hair with my fingertips and she gasps, moves up to meet my hand. I remember my other hand is on her breast and I begin to press her nipples between my forefinger and thumb, first the left and then reaching across her to do the same with the right. All the time my other hand dips lower and lower until I open her with my fingers and she moans.

I catch my breath, I can't help it. She is so warm and so wet that I can barely manage to hold to my slow movement. I run my fingers up along her soft flesh, from where her body opens to where slippery and soft becomes hard desire. She moves and groans, a growl from deep in her chest.

With my arm over her, teasing and caressing her breasts, I hold her against me while I move my fingertips over her clitoris. My middle finger and my forefinger, flat against her, stroke circles which start off lazy but increase in pressure and speed as she grips my arm with her hands and pushes up to meet me. Her body arches and jumps in time to my fingers.

I bend my head to her ear and kiss her neck gently. I use her own words from earlier in the night.

"You're mine, all mine." She nods, wordlessly agreeing, and then she whispers my name fiercely into the half light and I feel her body tense and let go. She lies over me for a moment, catching her breath, before she rolls back against me, tucked into the curve of my side, and puts her arm over me, settling into the crook of my elbow. I bend my head and kiss her and she smiles and strokes my cheek. Sleep claims us again.

She's gone when I wake up and I stretch and wonder if she's just gone to the bathroom. The front door clicks and I sit up sharply. Why can't I just trust the moment? Why does the sound of the door have me reaching for my pyjama pants and my heart racing? I stand for a moment with my hand on the door of the bedroom, afraid to open it in case I find the apartment empty.

She is putting things in the fridge, a brown paper bag of groceries on the counter. She turns when she hears me come in. Her face lights up as she smiles, eyes crinkling at the sides.

"Good morning." She comes around the counter to kiss me, putting her arms about me and holding me tightly. I pull her against me, her feet lifting slightly from the ground. "Mmm," she mumbles as I press my face into her hair. I let her go.

"Where have you been?" She gestures to the bag. It has a British flag on the side.

"I remembered you are a breakfast connoisseur." Her words remind me of the awful morning of Harrison's birthday. She sees this flicker across my face and she steps closer, narrows the distance between us physically and emotionally. "I wanted to make that memory right this time, Dexter." I nod, incapable of saying anything. How can she read my thoughts so easily? I've never met anyone who could even guess what was going on in my brain before.

"Thanks." I know it's an understatement but it's the best I can do. She grins at my inadequate communication and I look into the bag she has brought. "Eggs, bacon, mushrooms, tomatoes? What's this?"

"A full English breakfast." She says, grinning. "Ever had one of those?" I shake my head and she grins even wider.

"Nope. What does it involve? Anything disgusting? Animal body parts that shouldn't be eaten?" she laughs.

"No, you're thinking of something else. This is just lots of fried food. My dad used to make us 'breakfasts of the world' when we were little. This was my favourite. Next time we can have cold meats and cheeses like the Germans." I raise my eyebrows as she pours a glass of OJ and hands it to me. I sit down at the counter and watch her cook.

"What are you dong with the bread?" I ask in alarm as she smears it with butter and puts it in the frying pan, next to the sausages and bacon. The bacon looks too thin and the sausages too fat. Where did she buy these things? I like things to be orderly, controlled, but she's taken breakfast into her own hands. It scares me a little. She turns, still grinning as she prods the bread with the spatula.

"Frying it, I told you, it's all fried. It's really bad for you so we'll just have it once." She opens a can of beans and puts them in a pan.

"Lumen, beans? With breakfast?"

"Relax, Dexter, it's a new experience." She chuckles and turns back to the pan. "I've been thinking, about the killing." I raise my eyebrows. We're discussing killing while she cooks me international breakfast?

"Oh. What about it?" I watch her as she switches on the coffee machine and gets out two large cups.

"Our motivations. They're different but nearly the same. We overlap."

"We do? How?" I smile and she looks over her shoulder as she hears it in my voice.

"Well, for you it's about control, I think. You had no control over what happened to your mother, those men had all the control and so that's how you perceive taking control."

"With a chainsaw?" I ask as I finish my OJ and reach for the carton. She nods, then looks at me as she gets two plates down from the cupboard.

"Does that sound right? Or is it too much pop psychology?" I shrug.

"I don't know, seems as good a theory as any. And...?"

"And it's not just that, I think. You do it because you have to, there's the control but then you get something else from it, the release. All that aggression, that violence, has to go somewhere." Her eyes meet mine as she slides the fried bread, tomatoes and mushrooms onto the plate. She stabs the bacon and the sausages and puts them on the plate too.

"You think I'm aggressive? Violent?" I frown, not sure if I want to know the answer. She looks at me and nods once.

"Yes, I think you have all that in you, Dexter. But I've seen you with Harrison, with me," she puts out her hand and touches my cheek. "I think you get it all out, in one sharp explosion, when you kill." She pauses in passing me the plate.

"Do you always use a knife?" I look at the knife in my hand, a regular piece of eating cutlery. She shakes her head. "The knife," she corrects.

"No, not always, sometimes it doesn't feel right." She nods, dismissing the question but I know she will ask it again sometime soon, she's tenacious.

"So, is that your theory on Dexter the serial killer?" I ask her cutting some bacon and putting it with some tomato and the fried egg she is placing on my plate. She watches me and I scoop some beans onto my fork. I eye the combination warily.

"Not all of it. I think you get satisfaction from knowing you have rid society of someone bad. That might be the salve over your darkness but it's become part of the darkness too. The Code has become part of the darkness." I chew, thinking about what she just said and that breakfast doesn't taste too bad.

"What do you mean?" I drink some coffee and watch her mind working.

"You enjoy the ritual, right? The planning? The research? Not just the actual kill, it's all become part of the same thing. The Code sets you free and it's all become the same thing." I nod, she's right, my initial instinct to kill wasn't about planning, research, it was about the sharp implement slashing down and the blood.

"So, what about you, how do we overlap?" She drinks all of her coffee before she answers, skewering a piece of bacon on her fork and studying it.

"I get the same satisfaction from knowing I just got rid of another monster, present company excepted of course." I smile and she smiles back. "I get a rush from the moment. I just rub someone like that out of history, it's like a cataclysmic removal of their influence on the world. But I don't get the urge, the itch. I'll have to rely on you for that. What I have is an 'it's about time I did that again' feeling. Does that make sense?" She frowns at me and I nod, still eating.

It does. It makes perfect sense. We're here from different places but we get the same things from what we do.

"Harry told me that when you kill a man you don't just take his life, you snuff out all his future possibilities." She nods fiercely.

"That's it, that's just it. I can almost feel all their future deeds, the lives they were going to take and maim, being put back together. But I don't get the itch. So, you have to tell me when you get the itch again," she says, pouring more coffee and smiling as I realise I have nearly emptied the plate, "and we can plan together."

"Ok, that's good." I steal a sausage from her plate and she pretends to attack me with her fork. I mock cower and she laughs.

"So, when can we do it again?" I hear the excitement in her voice. I look up to see her tongue dart over her lower lip, her eyes wide. I recognise that expression, from my mirror when I get ready for a kill, in bed when she looks at me that way. My stomach clenches.

"When we come across a deserving person." I answer her, smiling.

"How do you usually find someone deserving?" She waves the coffee pot and I nod as she fills my cup again.

"Well, I used to have a friend in records down at the station. A friend of Harry's actually, and she used to let me have some old case files. I told her it was for a hobby, cold casing for fun. But, she died a while back so I've just been keeping my eyes open."

"At work?" She asks, cocking her head. I nod.

"Yeah, at work, at court. Actually, I have a court hearing coming up on Monday. Sometimes you hear things that might lead to a... deserving person." She smiles and then her face turns suddenly serious.

"Dexter?" I don't look up from my plate as I swirl the last of the fried bread in the sauce from the beans and the tomato, I can feel it clogging up my arteries,.

"Hmm?"

"This is it now, isn't it? It's just us." I look up, her face is more serious that I've seen it before. Without thinking, I nod. It is. It's just us. I put down my knife and put out my hand. She takes it and we smile.

"I killed a couple once," I see her eyebrows rise. "They were killing illegal immigrants, treating them worse than animals. But they did it together. I'd never seen anything like it, they loved each other. I asked them how, do you know what they said?" She looks at me and nods, how does she know?

"They said they wanted the same things, Dexter. Just like we do."

After breakfast, I wash the dishes and get a text from Deb to say that everything's fine and that we shouldn't rush over if we're 'tied up'. She even types the quotation marks. I sigh, shake my head and sit down on the sofa. Lumen looks over from where she is drying up the plates and cups.

"What? Is everything ok?" I nod, she comes over and reads the text, she frowns. "Tied up? What's that about?" She looks at me levelly, one eyebrow raised. "Dexter Morgan, is there something dark about you that you're not telling me?" She laughs as her own joke, I smile ruefully. She sits on my lap, our faces inches from each other.

"When I tried to talk to Deb, before I left you the note, I said something about us wanting the same things. Deb must have picked up on something, and you know how Deb's mind works, because she decided I was referring to... ah... bondage." I look at Lumen, a tentative smile on my face.

"Are you? Into bondage?" She asks, her tone matter of fact, unconcerned. She surprises me, after what she's been through I can't imagine her being too comfortable with this subject. I look at her in alarm.

"I don't know, I've never... it's not been something I've..." Lumen laughs and pats me on the shoulder.

"It's ok Dexter, I'm not suggesting we do anything like that. Let's just stick to plastic wrapping people to tables and playing with sharp objects, huh?" She kisses me lightly and goes back to the kitchen. She calls over her shoulder.

"You do get weird about the strangest things, Dexter Morgan. Breakfast with beans and bondage!" She laughs to herself and I sit on the sofa and smile.

**I think some people thought I'd finished! Oh no! There is much more killing, Debspeak, crime scene, killer sex, Masuka baiting, baby sitting in this 'season' to go! Thanks to Vb for being a light at the end of the tunnel, to Lostie17 for the Spanish and to YOU for reviewing! cx**


	16. Victims

"Can we go by my apartment, so I can change?" Lumen looks down at the purple t shirt and jeans she was wearing yesterday, when we met at the coffee shop.

"Sure, do you want to grab some things for tonight? I mean...if you want to stay the night?" I add hurriedly, still unsure of how fast we're going to go. She frowns.

"I'd love to stay, but I have to work in the morning and..." she sighs and bites the side of her lip.

"I could drive you over? If you want to, it's ok if you want to spend the night at home?" She smiles and comes over to where I am making the bed, wondering if I should just put the sheets in the laundry. She puts her arms about me from behind and squeezes. I turn and hug her back.

"Ok, that'd be great. I'll have to get my uniform and my night things, that way you get to see my apartment too. Have you told Deb we're coming over?" I take my phone from my pocket and speed dial Deb.

"Brother," Debra sounds happy. "Are you telling me you're on your way to pick up my delightful niece and nephews because we're just going out for lunch at the Rock Fish Grill. Wanna meet us?"

"Sure, Deb, sounds good. How was last night? All ok?" she laughs.

"I was just going to ask you the same thing, bro. But yeah, all good here. Astor and I kicked ass on the Wii, the boys are still smarting from the major defeat they took at our feminine, little hands. High five, Astor!" I hear the sound of slapping skin, I smile.

"Good, I'm sure Quinn took that well," she laughs again.

"So, all ok with you two?" Her voice is dripping with innuendo. I shake my head and Lumen grins.

"Yes, all fine here. We're dropping by Lumen's apartment so she can change. We'll see you in about an hour and a half?" I look at Lumen, unsure of how long we'll take and she nods.

"Ok, bro. Hey, I'm glad you got it sorted out. I like her," Deb's voice softens.

"So do I," I say as I watch Lumen grab her purse and my car keys.

I park the SUV next to Lumen's old station wagon and we take the elevator to her floor. The inside of the building has been decorated in keeping with the exterior. Everything is cream, black and gold, sharp lines, broad curves. The parquet floor has a chestnut sheen and the embellishments over the doors and along the walls are graduated lines, neat and elegant. Golden pyramid lamps line the corridor down to her apartment and they cast a soft glow, such a contrast with the bright sunshine outside that it's like starring in an old movie. Lumen sees me smiling.

"I know, she's a beautiful building isn't she? I couldn't believe my luck when I got an apartment here."

"How did that happen? Did you have a job when you arrived?" She shakes her head, getting her keys out of her purse.

"I still had some of the money I'd saved for my world travel." She pulls a face at the memory of what she had planned to do before she nearly became a 'barrel girl'. "So I came to Miami and I stayed in a motel. I'd planned to come and see you right away but then, I don't know, I think I was scared." I put my hand on her waist and she smiles at me.

"So, then I read the papers and looked in the classifieds but I didn't see anything I could really do, anything that was going to pay me enough to be able to rent somewhere. I went to the survivors' meeting, the one where I met Jessica, and I met Mary, Mary Chester... her mother owns the building and I mentioned I needed somewhere to stay..." I remember the elderly lady who was talking to Lumen on her way to work.

"So she gave you a room here? I saw you talking to her last week..." Lumen raises her eyebrows and cocks her head, I frown. "I, er... saw you, after Daniels. Deb said I should find out where you lived so I could talk to you..." she nods and then smiles.

"It's ok, I knew you must have followed me somehow when you returned the glove. Pete said he saw you, I was so surprised because I've been telling him..." It's my turn to understand now.

"I know, you've told him we're together. That's ok, it's not a lie anymore." I pull her to me and kiss her gently. She brings her hand up to my neck and deepens the kiss. My hand is on the small of her back and we lean against her door.

"Whoa! Get a room, guys!" It's Pete, his voice is jovial but there's some undercurrent I don't like. I find myself watching him carefully as Lumen pulls away. "Hey Elle, Dex." Of course, he knows her as Elle, I have to remember that. I decide to consider it an initial, an 'L'. Something inside me registers the over familiar 'Dex'.

"Hi Pete, sorry, we thought we were alone." I smile and turn Lumen's key in the lock.

"Oh I was just skulking about, you know, nothing to do on a Sunday." He leans on the wall of the corridor, ready for conversation. Lumen looks uncomfortable.

"Honey, we have an hour before we have to collect the kids. We should hurry up." Lumen smiles at me and then looks back to Pete who is scuffing his shoes on the wooden floor, his sneakers leaving a dark stain on the neat tiles.

"Oh, you guys get on with your day, I'm just going to down to a bar and hang out with some friends. Maybe we could meet up later."

"We've got the kids so, no Sunday drinking." I look apologetic but I just want him to go away. This guy gives me the creeps and that's saying something. He shrugs, looks at Lumen for a long minute.

"Ok, no problem. Hey Elle, maybe when it's not date night we could watch a movie?" She nods tentatively, it's the most reluctant thing I've seen her do. Pete grins and wanders off down the corridor. I shut the door to the apartment.

"I don't like him," I say, following my tactic of 'think, speak' from the day before. Lumen twists her mouth.

"Oh, he's ok. I think he just... likes me. For a while I think he didn't believe you existed. Probably because you didn't," she laughs as she goes into the bedroom.

"Well, it's lucky I do now. There's just something about him." I say, looking out of the broad, curved windows onto the palm lined street below.

Lumen's apartment is in the same colours as the rest of the building. She hasn't brought much with her, just some pictures, paintings of landscapes, and her laptop. The minimalism fits with the building's ambience. I hear her chuckling from inside the bedroom.

"Is that your killer instinct speaking or Dexter the jealous boyfriend?" I walk into the bedroom and she's pulling on a dress. It's a dark blue sundress, above her knee, with white lines bordering the hem, she pulls on a white short cardigan but not before I see the crisscross of scars on her back. She still makes me catch my breath, she pins her hair back with two barrettes and turns to face me.

"Do I look ok for lunch?"

"Not as good as you look in your kill suit," I walk over to her and move back a stray hair, she laughs.

"The black sweatshirt and pants? Or the denim shorts?" She waggles an eyebrow. I pull her to me and kiss her neck. She sighs.

"I liked both. The shorts were a bit impractical, but a nice twist." She chuckles and turns to pack her bag. She passes me the holdall and then the things she wants to bring with her. I fold her work uniform, a rainbow striped tunic and green cotton pants. "So, how did you get your job? Is this what you did before you came to Miami?" she shakes her head.

"No, I was training to be a child psychologist but I had the kindergarten qualifications from working in my vacations through college. So, when I saw the job and it was near the apartment I thought it was something I could do until I figured out what it was I wanted to do."

"But you enjoy it?" She nods as she gets her toothbrush and some toiletries from the bathroom and tucks them inside the bag.

"Yeah, I love it. The children are so warm, so open. Right." She stands up and grabs the bag, I take it from her. "All ready to go."

Rock Fish Grill is crowded, lots of people have decided to have Sunday lunch with their families today. The place isn't fancy but it does some good dishes and we sit outside instead of in the noisy bar area where a football game is blaring from the large TV screen behind the bar.

Astor and Cody give me conflicting, blow by blow accounts of last night's Wii competition and Debra joins in and digs Quinn in the ribs as she describes how awesome she was and how he 'sucked ass'. Then she apologises to the kids and we all laugh.

"Are you still on the bowling team, Dexter?" Quinn asks me suddenly and I get the impression he's changing the subject. I nod and drink my beer.

"You bowl?" Lumen looks amused and I raise my eyebrows.

"Yeah, I bowl. Is that weird?" I ask, looking at Deb for confirmation, Deb nods and grimaces.

"No, it's not weird, I just couldn't imagine you... bowling," Lumen says and exchanges a glance with Deb and Astor.

"Why do you ask?" I turn to Quinn, thinking he'd better have a good reason for bringing the subject up.

"Vince said they had a match on Tuesday, he's asked me to fill in for Bud from Vice. Are you playing?"

"If I can get a sitter," I say looking at the kids who are now feeding Harrison their shrimp. Should he be eating shrimp? I'm not sure. Lumen takes the shrimp out of his little chubby hands and replaces it with some bread.

"Ask Sonja, then we could all go bowling," Deb says, smiling at Lumen. "We could watch, right Lumen? It'd be nice for us to spend some time together," Lumen nods, I can see she likes Deb and the idea of something so normal as a bowling date seems like a good idea in all the weirdness that's been going on these last few weeks.

"Ok, sure. I'll ask Sonja."

The rest of lunch is full of easy banter, Deb and Lumen tease me as though they've known each other for years and, despite the way it makes me nervous, I find that it's comforting too.

We finish late at the Grill, the kids too full and too tired from last night's Wii tournament to want to do much with the evening. I settle Harrison in his crib and then Lumen and I sit on the balcony while Cody and Astor watch their TV shows and then get ready for bed.

"Night, Dexter." Cody hugs me and then hesitates before hugging Lumen. She smiles, she's made a big impression on him in such a short amount of time.

"Night, guys." Astor waves from the doorway, too grown up for bed time hugs and then she comes to me and presses her head against my chest like she used to do when she was a little girl.

When the room is quiet we slide the French windows closed and drink a beer, talking in whispers so we don't disturb the kids. Lumen has the local paper.

"What about this?" she points to an article on the page she is reading. It's not much of a column and there's a grainy photo of a couple in their twenties. They look rough, angry.

"Joseph Greco was released from prison this week after serving three years for his part in the manslaughter of his partner's baby son..." I read aloud and then look up into her face. She looks grim, serious. I read the rest of the article.

It seems that the courts couldn't prove that Mr. Greco deliberately killed the child, eight month old Todd DiMarco even though there were numerous cigarette wounds and a substantial amount of broken bones on the little boy's body. There were no witnesses and Ms Tina DiMarco, the child's mother, testified that her boyfriend had accidentally dropped the boy. Now he's out of jail. It's the sort of thing that makes Deb hate the legal system and makes me happy to help out where the judicial process fails.

"Does he sound deserving?" Lumen's voice is quiet but I can hear the agitation in her voice. I nod, shrug.

"Possibly, we'd have to know more. The coroner's report totally contradicts what the mother said but they had no evidence it was him." I study the picture of Joseph Greco, something in me recognises him as a fellow monster.

"And the girlfriend? Surely she's deserving too? She was the boy's mother and she let that happen? She testified for that creep." Lumen sounds angry, quietly angry like she did when she talked about Cole Harmon, Jordan Chase, those monsters. I look at her and see that familiar light in her expression, like she's lit from within by some righteous fury.

"Maybe, we can have a look?" She nods. I get up and get the laptop, carefully sliding the door shut behind me as I come back out onto the balcony. Lumen is studying the paper intently.

In a few moments we have the details of the case before us. The injuries on baby Todd's body are horrifying to read but Lumen and I both scan the page and digest every bruise, every burn. We scald it into our memories. The situation looks grim for Mr. Greco and Ms DiMarco. It looks very much like he did the abusing and she sat back and watched.

"How could she?" Lumen shakes her head, the words hissed out over her teeth. I don't know the answer, so I don't say anything.

"We'll have to be totally sure, it's the Code. We need evidence." She looks at me, the soft night time light from the pool picking out her dark eyes.

"How do we do that? The cops will have been all over it, and it's years ago now." I nod and sip my drink, biting my lower lip as I look out into the night, thinking, planning.

"We might have to meet up with this charming couple, see what we can get out of them." I look at her to judge how far she wants to go with this. She nods, drinks her beer. She is not going to stop now. A ridiculous surge of pride for her comes over me. She really is my partner.

"Then let's do it soon. They don't deserve to have any time together after what they did," she says grimly.

Lumen takes the laptop and spends twenty minutes searching through the images which have come up when she typed Tina Dimarco's name into the search engine. Her face, lit by the harsh light of the screen seems cold, alien. She's fascinating to watch when she's like this, all ice and frost compared to the fire and blaze of her when she's killing.

"Here." She stabs the screen with her fingertip accusingly. "This is where she hangs out. It might be somewhere we could meet them, if we want to do it that way?" I look over her shoulder, resting my hand on the skin where the silver scar cuts along her body. She is pointing to a picture of Tina DiMarco outside a bar, 'Judy's Bar and Grill'. Lumen moves her hand and there's another picture, taken in the same bar and another and another. It seems Tina DiMarco is a regular visitor. I nod, it's good work in such a short amount of time but it still makes me nervous imagining going out and meeting these people with Lumen. She's too precious to lose.

"Are you sure about this? I could go alone." I kiss her neck and she sighs, leaning her head to the side to allow me greater access to her skin. I trace my tongue along her scar and she shivers.

"Are you worrying about me, Dexter?" She sounds amused, she reaches her hand up to caress my hair. I smile into her shoulder.

"Of course I am. You're very precious to me and these people are dangerous." She turns her head and grins suddenly. She pulls me down to kiss me. Her tongue slips into my mouth and I take a shuddering breath, electrified by the energy zinging between us. I move around her chair and crouch in front of her, hardly breaking the kiss. She leans forward, takes my head in her hands and trails her lips down the side of my neck, along my collar bone, nipping with sharp teeth, I sigh.

She pulls back and looks at me. I can see her chest rising and falling with the excitement but I don't k now if it's our touching or the idea of killing Greco and DiMarco which has her so aroused. Her hands run along my thighs and I hear my own breathing hitch, I guess it might be both, it certainly is for me.

"Dexter, you're right, these people are dangerous. But so am I." She smiles and the light catches her teeth, the expression is dark and feral. The need for her body, the wanting, become so big that I can't say anything. She nods, understanding how I am feeling. "Let's go to bed." Her voice is low and urgent.

**So, the 'season' continues. Thanks for letting me know what you've thought so far. It's great to have your encouragement. thanks to VB for being beta buddy extraordinaire and for loasti17 for Spanish help! Cx**


	17. South beach Miami

I drop Lumen off at work and the kids off at Sonja's and drive to the station, basking in the domesticity of my life. I smile to myself as I put on my shades and turn the radio up, mentally adding up all the ticks on my checklist of life. Sex life, after the last few days I've had, big tick. I never knew that I would feel like this about a woman after Lila and Rita. It's as though the passion and the intensity i had with Lila has somehow merged with the comfort and the familiarity of Rita. I make a quick assessment of how I feel physically, relaxed but with more energy. Great.

Home life? Another big tick, the only thing bringing any of my buzz down is the fact that the apartment is too small. Even if Cody and Astor go back to their grandparents' it still leaves Harrison, Lumen and I in that one bedroom apartment. Listen to yourself, Dexter, planning on her moving in. I glance in the rear view mirror and give myself a wink. Go Dexter.

"Don't get too complacent, Dex." Harry is smiling, I can hear it in his voice but he still has to bring me down. I glance to him and smirk. "I'll admit it's all good now and I'm happy for you. You're closer to Deb and closer to normal than I ever hoped you'd be. Well done, son." I tap my hand on the steering wheel to the music and some pretty girls in a convertible wave at me as they pass. I raise my hand and wave back. Miami loves me.

"I'm not complacent Harry, just enjoying the moment. It's a long time since I thought things were going this well and I intend to savour it." I see Harry nod from the corner of my eye.

"What about this Greco/DiMarco couple? That could be risky, Dex." I sigh; I'd scheduled thinking about that issue for later in the day. Right now I was enjoying my achy sex muscles and the feeling of things being right for once. The lights change in front of me to red and it's like some metaphor. I look at Harry, he's leaning on the window looking at me.

"I'm not, we're not," I correct myself, "rushing into anything with them. We're bowling tomorrow night so it'll be Wednesday at the earliest that we could go and meet them, if that's what we decide to do. Plenty of time to think."

"You're right son, just don't let Lumen's blood thirst make you rush into things you would normally be taking some time over, do you understand what I'm saying? She hasn't had your training, Dex."

"I know Harry, I'm the one training her." I turn the radio up louder and hum along to Bobby Darin's 'Mack the Knife'. When I glance to the passenger seat, Harry is gone.

I barely exit the elevator before I am washed back inside by the tide of the team called out to a crime scene.

"Ah! Dex!" Angel smiles and hands me a coffee. How did he know I was coming in? He sees my expression. "Astor texted Deb and Deb texted me." I shake my head and look mildly alarmed. This is like having GPS tracking; I'll have to talk to Astor about it. I sip my coffee; it's just how I like it so I don't bitch to Angel about the invasion of privacy. Coffee matters.

"So, where are we going?" I ask, tucking my shoulder bag across my hip as the elevator doors open and Deb leads the way across the station foyer.

"South Beach. There's been a murder at a nightclub." I look at my watch; it's nine in the morning. Quinn sees my face and nods.

"Yeah, they only found the body this morning. It was in the ladies' restroom, propped in a cubicle." I nod and look for Masuka.

"Isn't Vince coming?" I frown as I see Angel start to smirk.

"Vince found the body," Deb turns as she's walking, grinning from ear to ear.

"He found the body? In the ladies' restroom, this morning? What was he...? Do I want to know the answer to this?" Deb chuckles and turns back as she opens the door to the Miami heat.

"Bro, we all want to know." She grins and Quinn laughs.

"Drive with me, Dex," Angel says. I frown, usually I'd drive myself. "Come on, drive with me. We can talk," he says, smiling. Ah, talking. About Lumen, I presume. Right.

We pull out into traffic and Angel leans to the glove box and offers me some of the gum he finds in there. I shake my head.

"So, amigo, Deb says you had a big weekend, eh?" He grins and nods to me, winking. "Tienes suerte." Lucky me. I sigh and look out of the window but it's obvious this isn't going to get me off the hook. It's also not what normal men do; I've noticed this over the years. Normal men talk about their sex lives, usually in inflated terms but there's an element of sharing. I'm not comfortable with it, never have been. Rita mistook it for me being a gentleman. The truth is, I don't see the attraction, plus, they might share their own stories. The idea makes me shudder. Angel is waiting, tapping his hand on the door where he rests his elbow on the window and looking sideways at me, still grinning.

"Yeah, I, erm... met up with Lumen again on Saturday." I say, tone light and hoping this will be enough. Angel nods, still smiling and makes a noise to imply I should continue.

"She stayed over on Saturday night, right? So I take it there was much 'make up sex'?" He chuckles and looks at me. "You've got that 'tired but wired' look about you, Dexter. You been making up for lost time, amigo?" I raise my eyebrows and nod, not really sure what to say. And he's right; we have been making up for lost time. He laughs loudly and slaps me hard on the thigh, I wince.

"Ah! That is buenas noticias! I knew as soon as I saw you that you were much better for your lack of sleep! And tell me," he leans towards me even though we are the only people in the car. I glance warily to the back seat. "Is she as good as you remember? Or did the time apart ignite the spark?" He sits back, still laughing. I nod, because I don't know what else to do.

"Things are great, Angel. They're... great," I end, lamely, not really aware of what the correct response to his questions should be. He seems happy with my answers and he grins all the way to the crime scene and tells me about a girlfriend he had when he was in training whom he only saw one weekend out of four.

"By the fourth week, amigo, she was encendido!" he exclaims and mimes blowing out a fire on his hands. I laugh nervously.

"So, what was Vince doing at this club?" I nod towards the building as we pull up in the parking lot. Angel chews his gum and reverses into a space.

"Hey, I don't know, Dexter, but he was pretty shook up when Maria spoke to him this morning. I think he fell asleep and the cleaners found him when they did their morning round." He looks at me, now the engine is off and he raises his eyebrows. He's as confused as the rest of us.

It's a shaken and pale Vince Masuka who greets us in the doorway of the club. Like all places that come alive at night, during the day it has a sorry and seedy air. Vince is wearing a bright red and white print shirt and knee length shorts. Around his neck is a glow stick whistle on a fluorescent cord. Next to his sombre demeanour his attire just looks even more out of place.

"Dex, Angel, thank god." He looks at us and I'm reminded of that beagle pup that Rita helped to relocate, his expression is morose.

"What happened, Vince?" Angel puts his arm around the smaller man who visibly leans into the embrace. I pat him on the shoulder. He nods to himself.

"You guys are true friends, dudes. You know, your sister and Quinn just got here and they just tore me up about this." I can hear Deb still laughing inside the gloom of the club. We start to walk in the direction of her voice but Vince steers us away. "I can't go back in there guys. My clubbing days might just be over." I look at Angel who raises his eyebrows.

"You go, Dex, sounds like it might be your thing. I'll stay out here with Vince. Has someone taken your statement?" he says to the smaller guy, Vince shakes his head. I salute Angel and make for the doors.

The club has silver walls, some shiny with tacked on panelling which is a cheap way to copy the effect of mirrors and other walls just covered in silver paint. It looks dingy now but I can imagine, with the lights strobing and the darkness, it probably looks ok at night. Deb is waving to me from a doorway that has a pair of fluorescent breasts hanging above it. Without meaning to, I look for its male counterpart. Oh, there it is. Nice.

"Dex, over here! They haven't moved him because they wanted you to have a look. Masuka says the blood is interesting." I raise my eyebrows and jog over, internally complaining that I haven't got the right shoes for this beer sticky floor. She pushes open a cubicle and it's red in there.

The body is slumped up on the toilet seat, its legs dangling down as though it's using the facilities. The lid is down and the hands are on the knees. They guy was wearing long shorts and the same sort of print t-shirt that Vince is still wearing outside. The colours are the only difference, these are orange and white. There's not much else I can say about the man himself, because his entire head is missing.

"Wow." I nod to myself and Quinn is by my elbow.

"I know, right? Bizarre. What the fuck?" I shake my head, thinking.

"Well, he was married, or recently divorced." I point to where the ring of a wedding band is visible in a pale line on the guy's left hand. Quinn nods. "From the skin tone I'm guessing he was Asian? Maybe Japanese?" Quinn looks at his notes and nods again.

"Raymond Takahashi, recently divorced, moved to Miami a couple of months ago. No known enemies, no one really knew him." Quinn looks back at the corpse; I am putting down my bag out of the way of the blood and getting out my camera.

"They did it in here, the decapitating," I tell Quinn, as I flash off some shots and circle the body to get a view at the blood pattern on the cubicle wall. "Why didn't the blood get noticed? There would be lots of blood, the heart would have carried on pumping until the floor was covered, I'd say." I put down the camera against my chest and look at Quinn, not really seeing him. He narrows his eyes. I take some more pictures.

"Very sharp blade, long, maybe a sword? Six, seven slices to get the head clean off. Jesus, must be some sword. Most blades would be blunt by the time they got to the spine but this one kept going." I look at the cubicle. "Perpetrator must be small, well trained." Quinn frowns and I look at him, still not seeing him really, replaying events in my head. "No room in here to really swing. So short, sharp blows. But where is all the blood?" I step out of the cubicle, still photographing. Deb stands beside me.

"Oh wow. Oh wow." I can't help myself, this is exciting.

"What?" Quinn leans in and his ear takes up my next shot. I push him out of the way and kneel on the tiled floor, looking at the toilet seat.

"What the fuck is it, Dex? Stop being such a fucking geek and tell us before you just shoot your load all over the scene!" I look at Deb; she grins and waves to the cubicle. "Well, fucking hell Dexter, you just got more excited that I think I've ever seen you!"

"Not more excited than Lumen's seen him, though," Quinn sniggers and Deb nudges him and laughs. I sigh and stand up.

"Finished?" They are still laughing. I look at them until they shut up. Deb is still grinning. "It's down the toilet," I say finally, pointing with my lens.

"What?" Quinn looks at me like I've grown another head.

"The blood, when the victim was decapitated the toilet seat was open. The blood has gone down the pipes; it probably flushed the toilet anda couple of time with its volume of liquid." Quinn looks disgusted, Deb's mouth is open.

"So, whatever sick fuck did this opened the toilet seat before he cut off this poor fucker's head?"

"In essence." I nod.

"Then, when the blood had stopped flowing, they put the seat down and position him like this?" Deb gestures with her sunglasses, waving the arm in her hand. I nod. "Jesus. This town is seriously fucking crazy. Are you sure?" I look back at the cubicle. Now I see it, I see it clearly.

The toilet seat has very little blood dripping down the sides but the rim is bloody. The floor has splashes of blood but nothing consistent to a man this size bleeding to death all over it. There's also blood around a join in the pipe at the back of the toilet. I take a few shots. I notice Deb and Quinn still looking at me. I stand up and grimace, it seems appropriate. Deb relaxes a little but Quinn still watches me. What does he know? Not for the first time, this thought bothers me.

"Gang killing?" Deb is asking Quinn, as Angel comes in the room. He looks at the body, takes off his hat and shakes his head, his mouth crooked up in an expression of wonder.

"Madre de Dios!" he says, looking with one eye at the bloody mess. "Coño!" Deb nods.

"Yeah and Dex says they might have flushed the blood away! Fucking sick, fucking bastards!" She turns away and pulls Quinn with her. Angel looks at me and shudders. I nod.

"Vince thinks they meant it to be him." He says seriously. I feel my eyes widen.

"Vince? Who'd want to do this to Vince?" I gesture to the grotesque tableau in the cubicle. Angel purses his lips and shrugs, it's a peculiarly Latin expression. He sighs and takes my arm, leads me out of the club into the sunshine.

"Hey, I don't know, Dex, but he seems serious. Maybe you could talk to him?" I nod and I'm making my way over to where Vince is sitting on the hood of Deb's car when my phone buzzes in my pocket. It's Lumen.

"Hey you!" I smile as I answer the call.

"Hi, is it ok to call you? Are you busy?" I look around the parking lot, uniformed and plain clothes cops swarm about and the forensics van has just arrived. I shake my head.

"No, just a decapitation in a South Beach nightclub toilets." I hear her suck in a breath.

"Wow. Ugh. Kind of puts my morning to shame," she giggles. I smile.

"Why? What've you been up to? Finger painting? Walk to the park?"

"Well, we did do some finger painting today but that's not what I meant. Can you meet me for lunch later?" I look at my watch, it's already nearly lunch but there's a still lot for me to do here. I'm not going to finish for another couple of hours. Crime scenes don't wait while the blood guy gets a pork sandwich.

"Not really, we're going to be here another few hours but I could come after I get done? What time can you get off?"

"Oh, ok. Well, my shift finishes today at three; they owe me an afternoon because I opened on a Saturday a few weeks back when some of the moms needed emergency child care. Come to the apartment, I can change and tell you my news." News? Why does this make me feel uncomfortable?

"Oh, ok. What news Lumen? Don't I even get a clue?" She laughs.

"Ok, one of the girls here knows Tina DiMarco." Her voice sounds light but I can hear the tone and it's got an edge. I walk further away from the crowd of cops and my voice sounds sharp.

"Ok, you've not been talking about her have you? We need to be very careful about this, Lumen." I warn and, though I don't want to scold, I sound like Harry in the early days. There is a pause; she obviously hears that tone in my voice.

"No, no, I'm not that stupid, Dexter." She sounds annoyed, I sigh. Things were going so well.

"I didn't think you were stupid, I...I suppose I'm not used to this and I'm used to being in control of the hunt." I just say the words as they come into my head. Lumen sighs, I can feel her relaxing.

"Of course, I should have realised that. Look, I've done nothing to draw attention to us, I just overheard a conversation which might be useful and I wanted to tell you. I was excited." She sounds small now. I shake my head.

"I'm glad you called me, this is exciting. Look, save the details until I get there and I'll be as excited as you like, Ok?" She giggles and I smile.

"Is that a promise, Dexter Morgan?" she says flirtatiously, I laugh.

"It is, a cast iron promise, Ms Pierce." She laughs and hangs up. I grin as I walk back to the crime scene, thinking I might have to change my shoes before I go over there this afternoon.

Thanks for your continued support and reviews with this, some people STILl just add to story alerts and don't tell me why! It's very frustrating, so thank you if you take the time to talk to me, it's good to be sharing with you. So, the season cracks on, what do you think? Thanks to Lostie17 for Spanish help and VB for being a gem and a wicked beta! cx


	18. The price we pay

I'm later than I planned as I drive to Lumen's apartment. The conversation I had with Vince is replaying in my head, the symmetry is startling.

"Dude, she's going to get me," he said, shaking his head and sitting down in the driver's seat of Angel's car.

"What? Who? Vince, what's going on?" I frown, noticing some blood on the hem of my khakis. Damn, this is why I wear dark trousers to a kill. Vince doesn't seem to notice what has distracted me; he's just annoyed at my distraction.

"Jesus, Dex, this is life and death here, man! Could you just focus?" His eyebrows are knotted and his usually smiling face is stern. I nod, tear my eyes from the smear of blood and look him in the eye.

"Sorry, Vince," I make my voice suitably humble. He nods, mollified by my expression.

"I was saying that Su Lin is gonna get me," he looks at me and clearly I'm supposed to know who this woman is, I have no idea. I raise my eyebrows and he sighs. "Su Lin? My ex? Dexter, are you so tired from the bedroom that you have no time for a friend?" I rub my hand over my face.

"Sorry, Vince, I'm just..." I blow out a breath and shake my head, implying a heavy night. Vince grins; I knew this tack would work.

"Hey, my friend," he puts his hand on my shoulder in an understanding way, "of all your buddies, I understand the repercussions of spending the night doing the horizontal mambo," he sniggers, "slappin' uglies, but I really need a bro here, right?" I briefly think about the fact that I have friends and try not to think of Masuka's descriptions of sex.

"I'm all ears, Vince." I nod. He looks down at his hands, they're shaking.

"So, Su Lin and I dated for a while. She's this hot Japanese chick, into manga, swords, you know, that Lolita shit," I have no idea but I nod. "And then I broke up with her. I met Tanya, you know, the chick I brought to Harrison's birthday?" The image of Vince escorting a tall, leggy blonde runs through my mind. I nod again.

"So, you think that this woman has decapitated a man because she thought it was you? Wouldn't she notice, Vince?" I frown and pull my mouth to the side, not wanting to stem his theory but seeing the obvious flaw in the idea. He shakes his head.

"Su Lin is a very passionate woman, Dex. She told me she would kill me with her katana if I left her, she might not have waited to see if it was me before she struck the first blow, maybe it was too late to stop." He sighs and shakes his head. "I gotta tell you Dex, I am scared." I pat his knee and he looks up at me. I realise this is a gesture I have picked up from the people around me, not something I would ever have done before of my own accord. I am changing.

"Look, Vince, if it's her, we'll find out. Deb won't have anyone running around Miami with a samurai sword. You're one of them, the team, they'll look after you." I point out of the window where Deb and Quinn and Angel are talking in the sunlight. Vince looks at me; his eyes are misted with tears. Don't cry Vince, please don't cry.

"One of us, dude, you're one of us too," he says patting the hand on his knee which I hastily remove. He mistakes the gesture for me not wanting to get emotional too. He nods and gets out of the car.

Vince is worried he has a killer girlfriend, I am happy I have a killer girlfriend. I think about this as I drive past the palms on Lumen's street. I smile to myself in the bright sunshine and turn into the parking lot under her apartment building. The station wagon is parked in its usual space.

"Calling for some afternoon delight, Dex?" Pete appears from behind his car. Is everyone fucking obsessed with my sex life? I sigh to myself and then plaster my 'happy Dexter' smile onto my face.

"A bit of a personal question, Pete!" I grin and jog past him to the elevator.

"Hold it for me, dude, I'm coming up!" He shouts and I veer to the stairs. I point to the doorway.

"Doing the run for my health!" I shout as the doors slide open and he gets inside. He nods and waves, no doubt thinking I am some sports freak. I really don't care what he thinks.

I make Lumen's floor without losing my breath and that makes me smile. I like being at the peak of my fitness and it's useful for my hobby. Sloppy serial killers get caught. I am still smiling when I knock on her door and Lumen answers.

"Hey," she smiles and steps back to let me in. "What are you grinning at?"

"Oh, just happy with my fitness levels recently." I don't even bother lying; don't even bother making things up for her. I grab her around the waist and pull her in for a kiss, she laughs.

"Well, Mr Morgan, I have to say that I am very happy with your fitness levels too. Although..." she stands back and I frown. "I do think you might want to work on your stamina." She grins, cocking her head and looking at me cheekily. I mock growl and make a grab for her.

"Can you guys at least close the door?" It's Pete again, grinning as he leans against the doorway.

"You're right, Pete, sorry," I walk to the door and push it closed in his face, "I'll be more thoughtful next time." I turn, Lumen is looking at me with her hand over her mouth but her eyes are laughing.

"What?" I ask, feigning innocence, "too rude?" She nods and comes over to me.

"A little," she says and then sighs. "But, he is annoying and we were busy..." She kisses me lightly on the cheek and grins. I grab for her again and she runs around the sofa, laughing and pretending to be scared. It reminds me of how I used to chase Cody and Astor, when they were little.

I make a feint to the left and she lets me catch her. I pull her against me and kiss her neck, my lips find the scar and I let it lead me down to her collar bone. She wriggles in my arms and I hold tighter. Suddenly, she stops wriggling.

Her breathing goes wild, panting, hyperventilating and she's shaking. It takes me a second to register what is happening and half a second to let go of her. She crumples to the floor.

"Lumen, it's me, it's Dexter," I say, scared to touch her now, angry with myself for not thinking of how she might react to the game we were playing. She makes a small sniffing sound and I can see her trying to calm her breathing. I kneel beside her and put out my hand, not daring to stroke her back but hovering because I really want to.

"S...sorry," she mumbles into the curve of her elbow, tucked into the tight ball she became as she got on the floor.

"No, no I'm sorry," I touch her lightly, just my fingertips and she relaxes and I press my palm against her. She turns her head, her face is white and her eyes red rimmed but she's trying to smile. "I should have thought... I should have known..."

"No, fuck!" She shakes her head, hits the floor with her palm and she's up, pacing the floor, hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Fuck!"

"What? What are you angry about? Me? God, I didn't know..." She whirls on me and grabs my face; instinctively I pull back from the blow I think is coming but she kisses me, hard on the mouth. She swallows my words as she works my mouth open and pushes her tongue between my teeth. I can't breathe and I can feel myself getting hard. This is not the moment Dexter, my brain says, but my body takes no notice.

Neither does Lumen. She pushes me down onto the floor, grabbing my shirt when I don't move fast enough. Once I'm there she unfastens my trousers, pulling them down in frenzy. She smiles grimly down at my erection and kneels up to pull at her jeans. I reach up to her, not sure what I'm going to do and she lies over me, grinding her hips against me, making me moan. She smiles again and it's a frightening expression.

"I don't want to be thinking of them, Dexter. I want to be thinking of you." She says it between her teeth, between the growling noise I am making as she presses herself against me. Swiftly she stands up, flicks off her shoes and takes off her jeans, her panties. Then she's back over me, her skin hot and her smell filling my senses.

She wriggles her hand between us and manoeuvres me until my hard cock is pressed against her opening. I am gasping, holding the floor for support as though I'm clinging to a ledge.

"I want to be thinking of you, Dexter. You, inside me. Making love to me, making me yours, making you mine." Each word is a movement with her hips until I am all the way in, feeling her tight and wet around me, holding me there. I lift my hands and stroke her hair and she lets me do this but then she grabs my hands and puts them under hers, each side of my head, as she leans into my thrusts. I can't decide whether she's angry with me for being a man or she's just showing herself that this is different. My hips are pushing up, not caring whether she's doing this out of spite or love or some kind of strange exorcism.

"We need to do this until I never associate any of this with them. I want it to be all yours," she groans, taking one of her hands and putting it between her legs. I look down and see her fingers down between us, bringing herself to orgasm. It sends a fire through me, she's not afraid; she's reclaiming her body through me. I lie back and let her do what she has to do, feeling her muscles tightening, feeling her take me, over the edge and away from her past.

"All yours, Dexter. All yours, always, just yours." She grits her teeth as she comes. Head down, shuddering over me and I follow her. I can't do anything else; this fierce, brave, determined woman takes me with her.

She falls against me and only then does she allow herself the luxury of tears. I stroke her hair and she puts her head against my chest and lets it all out. My pants are still around my knees and I can't really move to be any more comforting but it seems to be all she needs. I have no idea how long we lie like this on the floor. I let her take her time and eventually her crying subsides into little hiccupping sobs and she lifts her face from my, now wet, shirt.

"Sorry about that," she grimaces when she sees the mess, she must have been wearing mascara, the black smears on my shirt are matched by the smears on her face. I smile at her, hoping she understands the expression.

"Sorry for the part where you killed my shirt, or the part where you threw me on the floor and fucked me?" She smiles a half smile and I relax a little. "Because, you know, the shirt is a small price to pay..." She giggles and I smile wider and sit up, putting my arms about her.

"Sorry for being angry. I shouldn't be angry when we're doing that." She hugs me back briefly and then gets up, picking up her jeans and panties and walking into the bathroom. "Come and talk to me while I shower?" she says, over her shoulder. I struggle up from the floor, pull up my shorts and pants and follow her.

She starts the water and takes off her clothes, she's unselfconscious and I feel strangely proud that she is not scared with me. Most people I know would be terrified if they knew me at all, Lumen knows all of me and I'm the only person with whom she isn't even a little scared. She catches me smiling.

"What?" Her eyebrows are raised but her face still bears the marks of her tears.

"I was just thinking how amazing you are, how brave and strong. And how proud I am of you." I say it because it's in my head; it's what I do with her. She frowns.

"Brave? I wasn't very brave then was I?" She gestures with her hand to the lounge. I purse my lips and shake my head; I think she takes it the wrong way so I try to explain.

"No, you were brave. You got scared and then you made yourself deal with that fear head on, no surrender, no return. That's amazingly brave. You could run away from this, from me. But you don't." She folds her arms over her bare stomach. I watch the scars wriggle as her muscles move.

"I'm not running anywhere," she says and turns to step into the steam of the shower. I smile to myself. She puts her head back and lets the water run over her face. The water sluices away the marks of her tears. "It just makes me so angry that they've left these scars." She opens her eyes and looks down at her body and then at me.

"Not just the scars here, Dexter, the scars in my head." She pours the shampoo into her hand and works it into her hair vigorously. I know what she means.

"I know, but we can make them fade. We've already started. Every monster we get rid of fades a scar. Every time we..." I pause and think for the word because 'fucking' doesn't cut it. What we do is raw and intimate but there's something else. I feel my eyes widen as I say the words. "Every time we make love, we fade them a little too."

She is rinsing the shampoo from her hair and she opens her eyes as the bubbles float down her stomach. She leans forward and supports herself with her hand on the glass shower screen. Her other hand beckons me. I walk to her and she kisses me. She tastes soapy, clean.

"I love you, Dexter Morgan," her slippery lips murmur, as she presses them against mine. I can feel my heart pounding. Before I can think anything else, reason with myself or rationalise, I say the words that are in my head.

"I love you too, Lumen." She sighs and pulls back. She looks at me for a moment and then goes back to her shower. I sit on the toilet seat and grin like an idiot for about three minutes, she is humming as she washes.

I watch her, idly counting her scars and find my brain reconstructing their creation, it's a hazard of my day job and my night job. I wish I could look at her and not have a clue how they got there but each line whispers to me. 'Slicing knife, left handed', says one and 'belt buckle, swung from overhead', says another. I close my eyes against the voices.

"So, wanna know what I found out about Tina DiMarco?" Lumen is stepping out of the shower, reaching for a towel. I stand and hold it for her like a cloak; she steps into it and looks up at me. I nod.

"Well, Pearl from the kindergarten knows Tina's sister; they were at school together or something. Anyway she saw Tina and her sister last night; they were out celebrating Greco's release." She walks into the lounge again and sits on the sofa. I get a glass of water, waving the glass to ask if she wants one too, she nods.

"Oh, and what did Pearl say?" I pass her the glass and sit next to her. She puts her legs over my knees and I take the edge of the towel and start to dry her feet.

"Pearl said that she thinks Greco is a creep and Tina was defending him. Everyone's a bit scared to mention the baby around her because she completely lost it when Greco went inside. Pearl said she relies on him way too much, that he has some kind of hold over her, like a drug. Anyway, when Tina went to the bathroom, her sister told Pearl that Tina was hooked on Greco, he wasn't good for her. Pearl was agreeing when the sister said that Tina had even admitted that she was there when Greco hurt and killed Todd but she loved him so much she lied for him, she couldn't live without him." She is watching me and I am thinking.

"So, Tina's sister told someone this? It doesn't sound very loyal." I say, still staring into space.

"Mm, that's what I thought, but Pearl said that Tina's family have tried to get her to leave Greco. They've staged interventions, even got her a job out of town while he was in jail, but that she still goes back to him. I think the whole family are so pissed with her that they don't care what anyone knows. Maybe they think he'll get what he deserves if enough people know he did it?" I look at Lumen, her face is flushed and it's not from the shower. Her eyes are not puffy now, they are bright, alert.

"But the sister was out celebrating his release?" I frown and Lumen nods.

"They didn't want her seeing him alone, they're not leaving her side while they know he's out there." I nod slowly; I can't imagine what it's like to have a person you love chained to a dangerous addiction. The thought takes me to Harry.

"We can't just go off this, that's not the way of the Code," I turn to look at her but she's already nodding.

"I know, but it's the evidence we need to look deeper into things isn't it?" She cocks her head questioningly. She's right.

This chapter is a bit later than I'd normally post but my life has taken on some major constricting bc of work recently. Let me know how I'm doing, I appreciate all your comments! Thanks to Lostie17 for the Spanish for Batista and to VB for being every vigilant and supportive! Cx


	19. Sleeping alone

Lumen doesn't plan to stay over on Monday night. She has an early start at work and both of us sense that it's too much like moving right in together if she stays every night. There's a part of me that doesn't see the problem with her moving right in, apart from the fact that I just don't have the space. But I know it's not what people do, so I don't say anything.

Instead she gives me a long, lingering kiss which makes me wish she was coming home with me anyway. Even though my body's getting more attention in the last few days than it has for months, it just makes me hungry for more. Reluctantly, I press the button for the elevator and let go of her waist. She waves me goodbye.

So Monday night passes pretty uneventfully. I spend some time, once the kids are all asleep, checking out Joseph Greco on the internet. He's blazed quite a trail across the country it seems. Never quite getting caught but always on the outskirts of some child abuse ring, named in a paedophile scandal but nothing sticks to him. A series of wronged, but loyal, women follow his trail of broken lives. I sit for a moment; sipping a beer and feeling the light sea breeze ruffle the collar of my shirt and think about men like Greco. How do they do it? Where does this charisma come from? How can someone be so essentially loathsome and yet still find love?

The train of thought brings me back to Lumen; she doesn't think I'm loathsome. Quite the opposite actually, she sees what I do as I source of goodness. Even though she knows the urges were there before the Code she still sees that I have used those urges for good.

"But it's not just that is it, Dexter?" Harry leans on the rail and looks down into the moonlight pool below. I look over at him. "The Code doesn't just serve society, it protects you from capture. Killing monsters means no one looks for you." I drink my beer and bite the side of my lip.

"Well, that hasn't been one hundred percent successful has it?" He looks at me, an eyebrow raised in question. "Bay Harbour Butcher? Trinity? I've not exactly been under the radar have I, Harry?"

"No, I guess not, son. I couldn't foresee some of the things that were going to happen to you when I made the Code." He sighs and nods to me, acquiescing the point. I tip my bottle neck in his direction as a gesture that I accept the apology.

I go back to my musing, thinking now about Masuka and the mysterious, sword wielding Su Lin. She sounds like my kind of girl, if it wasn't for the jealousy factor. A little too Lila for my liking. That's another good thing about Lumen; she seems to know that I mean it when I say I only want her. I've no reason to lie. After being married to Rita, dating Lila, or whatever I was doing with Lila, it seems strange to be able to be so honest. Women always seemed so complicated before. I never thought, after Biney, that I'd be able to share all of me with anyone.

I hear a car pulling up in the parking lot. It's late for visitors and no one in my building is much of a clubber, so it arouses my interest. Instinctively, I pull back from the railing and into the shadows. There are light footsteps on the stairs and I move along the balcony to the top of the stairs. I realise I am taking the fight to the newcomer, away from the apartment and the sleeping children. Without realising it, I am on the alert.

The sound of the footsteps comes closer; it's someone light on their feet. They turn at the top of the stairs and the overhead light floods their head with gold. It's Lumen. She looks up suddenly at me, startled, making a small frightened noise in her throat and then she relaxes. It gives me the most wonderful sensation to see her recognise me and just relax like that. It's like a thrilling reversal of the first time my victim looks up from that plastic wrapped table.

"Oh, hi. You scared me!" she whispers, smiling now. I step out of the shadows and put out my hand, she takes it instantly.

"Is everything ok? Is something wrong?" I look into her face, searching for some clue as to why she is here in the middle of the night. She shakes her head and looks me in the eye.

"No, well, yes. Something was wrong," she says and I frown, clutch her hand tighter. "It was wrong that I was in bed and you weren't there next to me. So I came here. Is that ok?" She doesn't wait for an answer. "I was just thinking it looked bad if we stayed together every night but then I figured I don't actually care what looks bad. Hey, I'm a killer." She grins a crooked grin and I laugh.

"You are," I nod and she nods too, mockingly, like it's something serious, which really it should be, but it isn't. I take her hand and we walk along the balcony to the apartment.

"It's very liberating you know, being a killer," she looks at me sideways and I frown. "It is, because how can I be bothered about all the normal stuff when I kill people too?" I look at her, I've never thought of it this way, all those years of caring what people think in case I get caught and here she is, liberated by what we do. I must look surprised because she laughs.

"I might even dye my hair, I've wanted to do it for years but people are so funny about blondes dyeing their hair. I might just do it now, though." I shake my head; I love how her mind works. From killing to hair dye in 60 seconds. I look at her as she passes under another overhead light, the gold and silver in her hair catches the beams, she has a halo.

"Don't dye it. I like it like that," I say, being honest, saying just what I'm thinking because I can. She smiles at me sideways.

"Ok, I won't," she holds my hand tighter.

We step over the sleeping kids and brush our teeth quietly, both of us smiling at this picture of domesticity that we thought we'd never have. Harrison moans in his sleep and Lumen strokes the hair from his forehead and speaks softly to him and he drifts off again.

I'm already in bed when she comes into the bedroom. I pull the duvet back for her and she slips in beside me, curling herself into the crook of my arm. I lie back, arm under the pillow, and listen to the assorted night noises of my family as they sleep peacefully under one, small roof. It's too small, but it feels good right now.

"So, we're bowling tonight and you're with Sonja, ok?" I point the spatula at Cody and then Astor and they nod solemnly and then grin.

"Are you any good at bowling?" Cody asks Lumen who shrugs.

"I don't know," she admits chewing her first pancake of breakfast, "I've never tried."

"Never tried? What were your parents thinking? That's abuse right, kids?" I act outraged and Cody nods vigorously, Astor passes Lumen the phone. Lumen looks at the handset.

"What's this for?" she asks blankly.

"Call a crisis line; get your parents locked up. No bowling?" Astor grins incredulously and Lumen laughs and hangs the phone back on the wall. I grin at Cody who nods his approval for Astor's joke.

"Well, it's a good job I met you guys then, phew!" Lumen runs her hand across her forehead dramatically and we laugh, even Harrison who has no idea what we're laughing about.

I dish out some more pancakes and sit down to finish my own. I love cooking but I hate how you have to eat last if you make breakfast for four people.

"Thanks for not minding about the early morning," Lumen says looking at her watch and finishing her last pancake. "I have to be at work extra early today to open up for some moms who are on first shifts at the hospital." Cody looks at the clock as though he hasn't noticed the time and then he frowns.

"Were you here when I went to sleep? I don't remember." He looks at Astor for confirmation. Astor's face is a sly smile.

"I don't think so Cody, maybe Lumen came over later?" She looks at me and I nod.

"I just didn't want to miss breakfast with you guys," Lumen says kissing Cody's head and then Harrison's. I bend for a kiss and she laughs, kisses me and puts her hand on Astor's. I notice Astor doesn't pull away, she just smiles. So quickly we've all bonded together, we're a survival story.

Lumen gets her jacket and her purse. I stand up but she points back to the stool I was sitting on. I sit down dutifully.

"I'll get a cab; the roads will be clear at this time. What time are you picking me up?"

"Is seven ok? We start at half eight but Deb wants us to grab some food first." I finish my last mouthful and pour some more coffee. Lumen nods.

"Ok, see you guys later!" She waves.

"Yeah, see you tonight," grins Astor and Lumen smiles and looks at me, I shrug.

Masuka isn't at the precinct and the rumour is that he's hiding from Su Lin. I spend the day matching the blood samples I took yesterday to the ones found outside the nightclub. It's odd being in our tiny lab without his crude comments and personal questions. I look up from my microscope to see Angel crossing the floor to my desk.

"Hey, Dex, find anything that can tell us it wasn't this Su Lin, ninja chick?" He sits on Masuka's chair and spins slowly from side to side. I shake my head.

"We've no more evidence really. These blood matches are all the victim's, the blade must have still been dripping across the parking lot until she wiped it with this cloth." I hold up the red stained piece of fabric. Who carries a blood stained samurai sword across a nightclub lot without getting noticed? Miami is a town of surprises.

"She? Amigo, are you saying you think it really was Vince's warrior ex who did this?" Angel, screws up his face.

"No, no I'm not saying it was her, but the height of the blow and the size of the cubicle do indicate that the killer is someone of a small height for a man. A woman could have done this, if she knew how to handle a sword." I shrug; to be honest it was a slip of the tongue, women with blades are on my mind for some reason.

"Well, let's try to talk Vince out of throwing tonight's bowling match, eh? I need to get out of the house if you know what I mean, compadre?" He looks over at LaGuerta's office where I can see Maria leaning on her desk, angry and scolding. She stands and puts her hands on her hips. It doesn't look good for someone but I can't see who, because of the potted plant on the filing cabinet in the corner. I wince, Angel nods and stands up, stretching his arms.

"Yes, I really need to get out of the house. What with the missing paperwork thing and this new beheading, Maria is a bomb waiting to go off." He quirks his head and twists his lips and I nod sympathetically. He leans to my desk. "I think maybe she has 'la regla'?" He winks and I nod again. He doesn't know if his wife has her period? No wonder he's so interested in my sex life.

"Well, I'll do my best!" I say perkily, keen to have the conversation over so that I can go back to looking at samples and day dreaming about Lumen. She's in all my thoughts. My clothes smell of her, I found a blonde long hair on my shirt today and I find myself deliberately remembering how she says my name when she comes, all desperate and fierce. Angel pats me on the shoulder and wanders off to make coffee, moving quickly when he sees the door to Maria's office open. I look up as Maria's victim crosses the floor to their desk, it's Deb. She comes straight for me.

"Bro, we are so going out for lunch. Get your wallet," she says, grabbing my arm and hoisting me out of my chair. I pull back to grab my bag but she's still moving towards the elevator.

Once we're inside and alone, Deb lets rip.

"That fucking bitch! Jesus, we need to get Angel to get her laid before she comes to work! She's a fucking hazard!" I look at Deb, she's usually this expressive but today it seems more than just bark, this anger has bite too.

"What happened in there? Are you in trouble?" Deb shakes her head and puts her hand on her hip. Then she does a frightening impression of Lt Maria LaGuerta; Latina accent, head tossing, the works.

"Detective Morgan, if I don't see some results about this South Beach Beheading, then I'm going to be suggesting to the chief that some people in this team get a move to somewhere else in the building, have I made myself clear?" I smile and start to laugh but then Deb looks at me and it's clear this is angry mocking, not comedy.

"What? She's pinning it all on you? What are you supposed to do?" Deb shrugs and I can see the rage coming off her in waves. It's a good job I'm the serial killing Morgan. I don't think Miami could withstand the sort of bloodbath which might assuage Deb in a mood like this. At least I'm doing it one at a time.

We walk out into the parking lot and Deb strides over the road to the outside snack place we like to get our pork sandwiches. She orders for both of us, even though I get out my wallet she just looks at me until I put it away, and then she makes for a table a long way from company. She bites the sandwich, drinks her coffee and sighs.

"Ok, that's better. Sorry, Dex, but I swear one day I will just pistol-whip that bitch. And, have you seen those earrings she has on today? Cherubs! Gold, fucking cherubs big enough to be on the side of a fucking church! What is her damage?" She shakes her head and then deliberately blows out a breath. She smiles suddenly. I start to panic, that smile means she has something she wants me to do or she wants me to talk.

"What?" I say through my mouthful of sandwich. She grins wider.

"So, how's it going with Lumen? You guys seemed happy when we saw you on Sunday and Angel says you were 'cansado de tanto meterla'," I look at her blankly; I know our Spanish doesn't stretch that far. She grins, "I looked it up online, it means 'tired from fucking'." Deb raises her eyebrows and smiles at me innocently; I nearly choke on my coffee.

"Oh, he did? Right, thanks, yeah, thanks for discussing my personal life with everyone, Deb." I look at the table.

"Look, fucktard, if you don't tell us something people will make this shit up, you know? It's what friends do. We're only teasin' ya, bro. Lighten up." She bites her sandwich, still grinning. "You don't have to tell me, I'll just ask Lumen later. Girls talk about all sorts of shit you men don't know about." She nods like it's a big, female secret she's letting me in on. Would Lumen do that? I honestly don't know. I don't know what normal people do about things like this.

"Ok," I make a decision, "well, it was good. We had sex pretty much straight away, on the sofa. I didn't even get chance to take my pants off because..." Deb holds up her hand.

"Oh fuck me sideways, Dexter! I didn't want the porno movie version of my brother's sex life! Dude!" She shakes her head, swallows some coffee like it's stopping her vomiting her sandwich right back onto the table. I frown, wasn't that what she wanted? "Jesus. Eww," she mutters and looks away across the street and I drink my coffee, this is confusing. She turns back to me.

"Ok, no, that's good. It's good that you're sharing. And it's good that you guys are... getting it on. That's all good. Good." She pats my hand, it seems like she's trying to convince herself more than convince me.

"I think I'm happy," I say and, as the words leave my mouth, I realise that they are true. That I have just done the same thing with Deb that I have been doing with Lumen, saying what I am actually thinking, not disguising my feelings in a cloak of normality. Deb's face is alight; it's touching how much this simple fact makes her happy. I smile despite myself.

"That's fucking amazing, Dexter, it really is." She nods to herself and finishes her sandwich. "So, have you actually spent the night apart yet?" I shake my head and she grins madly.

"We were supposed to, last night, but then Lumen just showed up at the apartment. She said it was wrong, not sleeping in the same bed as me." I know that this will make Deb happy and, though it seems a little personal, I can almost hear Harry cheering as I divulge this nugget of truth.

"Wow." Deb shakes her head. "That is just so romantic. Oh I love you two, I really do. Do you think it's time to look for a bigger place, Dex? I could help you scope some places out? Or have the kids while you and Lumen look?" I finish my sandwich and look at my sister's happy face. It's amazing how happiness filters through a person and touches everyone around them. It's that ripple effect again.

"No, I think we should take the kids with us, it'll be their home too, if they want it to be," I add, realising we've not spoken to Astor about Cody's idea of moving back to Miami.

"I think Astor wants to come home too, Dex." Deb puts on her sunglasses, there seems to be something wrong with her eyes. "I'm so proud of you. Home is where Dexter is. Who'd a thunk it?"

Ok, I have four chapters in hand here at home and am trying to stay ahead so that, if something happens and I have no time, then I won't let anyone down. Thanks so much for all your kindness so far. It's nice to know people are enjoying this season. Please let me know what you thought of this one. Thanks to Lostie17 for the translartions and VB for being a comma aficionado and a gem. cx


	20. Bowling

"Have a great night! Phone me if you're going to be later than eleven!" Sonja says as we leave the apartment. She's got Cody and Astor setting up a board game while she makes them supper.

"We will. Thanks, Sonja." I wave to the kids who look up and smile.

"Oh, Dexter, I forgot to say, Colleen called today, she wanted to know if they wanted to go over there for a sleepover tomorrow night? Cody's friends from school have been asking about when he's coming back to Miami, so she thought they could all spend some time together. I said I'd ask you. What do you think?" This is perfect; not only will Cody and Astor get chance to be with their old friends but Lumen and I can scope out Greco and DiMarco without worrying about a babysitter.

"Yeah, that's fine. Does she really mean Harrison too?" Colleen helped Rita out so many times when we first got together, the kids see her as an extra family member, it's nice that she's remembered them.

"Mm, she said that she might as well have all three so you can have a night off. She already has two children, is that right?"

"Yep, Davey was in Cody's class and I think the girl was the year above Astor. They were friends anyhow. That's really kind of her, will you ring her? Night guys!" Cody and Astor wave and Sonja closes the door.

"Who's Colleen?" Lumen asks as we get into the SUV and I start the engine.

"A neighbour of Rita's from the old house. I think she pretty much helped Rita through the split with Paul. She's a good woman." Lumen nods and plays with the strap of her bag.

"Will she be ok when she hears about us? If she was a friend of Rita's?" I frown, I hadn't thought of that.

"I guess so, she'll be ok if the kids are ok." This reminds me of something. "What was Cody showing you when we were leaving?" Lumen laughs and turns to me with her fingers pinched together, it's like some greeting from a sci-fi movie.

"How to hold a bowling ball, he said it'd be embarrassing if I got there and I didn't know." I laugh.

Deb and Quinn meet us in the parking lot of the bowling alley. Next door is a pizza place and Deb tells us she's booked us a table.

"Have you heard from Masuka?" she asks, as we walk to the door.

"Nope," I shake my head and look at Quinn, who frowns and shakes his head too. Deb tells the waitress the name of the reservation and we are led to a broad table at which Angel is already sitting, looking at the menu.

"Hey!" He half stands and nods his hello to us, then he holds out his hand to Lumen. She smiles and puts out her hand which Angel kisses and she laughs. "I've heard lots about you; you've made our boy here very happy. Very tired, but very happy." Deb laughs and so does Quinn. Lumen blushes a little and giggles. I don't know what to do.

"Great. Thanks Angel. Lumen, this is Angel Batista, good cop, terrible confidant." I shake my head and sit down, passing the menus out and trying to change the subject.

"Do I know you? You look really familiar?" Lumen is frowning. Angel looks at Deb and Deb nods.

"Well, that's because we have met before, chica bonita," Angel nods and smiles reassuringly. I look at Lumen to judge her reaction. Does she realise that being with me means much more than being with a serial killer? All my 'friends' are cops and cops look out for their own. As if things weren't complicated enough.

"Where?" Lumen looks at Angel seriously, the atmosphere at the table shifts slightly.

"I asked Angel to talk to you after I met you at Rita's house," Deb interrupts the silence. "I was just worried about Dex, and he'd not mentioned you and it just seemed, I dunno, weird, I guess. So Angel met you in a store. Nothing serious, he said you seemed nice..."

"And hot too, I think I mentioned the hotness," Angel grins disarmingly and Lumen laughs.

"Look, it wasn't anything sinister, I was just worried about my bro, you know?" Deb looks at Lumen earnestly and I see Lumen weigh this up and nod.

"It's ok, I understand. You guys do this for a living; you're bound to check people out. I'm glad I passed the test." She looks back to the menu and holds my hand under the table.

"So, where the fuck is Masuka?" Deb says scanning the restaurant. It's populated with families, couples. The only loner is a guy with a hooded sweatshirt on sitting in the corner. He must be baking, even with the A/C on, it's warm inside. Angel follows my gaze and grins.

"Well, he looks suspicious enough to be on the run from a sword wielding, ninja ex," he exclaims, shaking his head. Lumen frowns.

"Masuka thinks his ex is out to get him. There was a beheading in a South Beach Nightclub this week and Vince thinks it was meant for him," Deb grins and shakes her head, laughing. Lumen looks alarmed and glances at me, her hand tightens on my fingers.

"None of the evidence points to Vince's theory being true," I tell her, as though I am going along with the joke but really I'm informing her that she shouldn't worry, we aren't looking for female, blade wielding, serial killers. "And what are the chances of her not realising it was him before she started swinging the blade about?" Lumen looks at me and nods, we both know that is unlikely.

"Uh oh, here he comes," Quinn mumbles under his breath and we all look back to the menu.

The hooded figure slides in to the chair next to Deb and leans on the table. We look at him and he slips the hood back a little so we can see the round face and round glasses of Vince Masuka. It's like something out of a spy novel.

"Hey," he whispers, "I need to check we weren't followed." He looks at me and I raise my eyebrows and nod.

"Amigo, we got your back," Angel leans back in the chair and lifts his thin jacket so we can see his holster and his police issue gun. Quinn pats a pocket and Deb points down her back to where she keeps her weapon. Masuka looks back to me and I lift the knife from its place beside the fork on the table. Everyone sniggers. Everyone, except Masuka who frowns and nods seriously.

"Thanks, dudes. I need all the backup I can get, you know?" he sounds tired, like he's not sleeping.

"Have you heard anything new?" Angel asks him, leaning across the table and whispering because Vince's mood has got to us all now. Vince shakes his head and looks at me, an eyebrow raised.

"Nothing. The blood came back negative for matches. We don't even know if Su Lin is on the database."

"What does she do? For a job?" Lumen asks him and Vince's eyes swivel to her and then back to me. He grins; this is something of the old Masuka.

"Lumen? A pleasure to meet you. I believe you are expanding the horizons of my young padawan apprentice, Dexter, here." He waggles his eyebrows under his hood, Lumen frowns. Deb looks at me and slaps Masuka's arm. He yelps and sits back. "Hey! I was only, you know, making nice!"

"Yeah, well, Dex is fed up with that kind of teasing now, right Dex?" I nod mildly; I don't want to start a row, especially about my nonexistent deviancy. Vince grins at me and I shrug.

"My lips are sealed, dude," he nods slowly, like we're in some secret society. Angel makes a noise that sounds like he's trying not to laugh. Everyone looks at him and he turns to the menu.

"Do we know what we're ordering?" He waves the waitress over and we tell her what we want.

When the food arrives there's silence while we all start eating. Deb and Quinn share some private joke about the stringy cheese on their pizza and Masuka sniggers in a frankly alarming way so none of us ask him what the joke is about.

"So, do you think I'm safe to take this off? It's fucking hot in here and I don't just mean in my pants," he says finally, grinning widely. Deb fakes a choking sound.

"Masuka, dude, eating here, ya know? Man! Yeah, there's no psychos in here so take the fucking sweatshirt off, you freak!" She goes back to eating pizza and Lumen squeezes my hand under the table. Deb's right, apart from the two psychos sharing a pepperoni thin crust and sitting right opposite her. I smile into my next mouthful.

Masuka scowls and shrugs off his sweatshirt to reveal his pale blue bowling shirt.

"I hope you're wearing yours," he says seriously to Angel and I. Angel opens his jacket to show the same pale blue, I point to my bag on the floor.

"What's the name of your team?" Lumen asks, leaning forward to read the writing on the back of Vince's shirt as she finishes her last slice of pizza.

"Bowl 'til you Bleed," Vince shows her the logo on the chest of the shirt. Lumen starts to laugh. "It's a reference to the forensics, you know." Vince tells her, not understanding why Lumen is pink in the face and clutching her stomach.

"I know," Deb is laughing too, "lame right, but, that's my boys!" She ruffles my hair and Lumen looks at me, eyes streaming. I grin and nod. I know, crazy, right? It's strange how this is such a normal night out. It occurs to me that this is the most human I think I've ever felt. We're having fun, out with our buddies and in a way I never thought would happen. Lumen gets all the jokes, even my dark humour.

"Dex picked it!" says Vince defensively and Lumen just laughs more.

"Yeah, well, Dex is a geek too isn't he?" Quinn grins. I look at him, his face goes blank.

"I thought it gave us an edge of danger, you know, cos we're dangerous guys," I say in my mildest tone, only Lumen gets the real humour of the statement. She clutches my hand under the table.

"Dangerous? Dex, bro, you are only dangerous to pancakes!" Deb is giggling.

"Or donuts!" adds Lumen and Deb high fives her. I purse my lips, nod and admit defeat. It feels good to have them tease me.

So, we pay up, leave the pizza place and get ready to bowl. Deb and Lumen grab a table just behind our lane and order some beers for everyone. Quinn and I change into our shirts; his is a little too big. I guess that guy from Vice works out more than Quinn. Deb laughs at how the shirt hangs off of him.

"Hey, it's not my shirt ok? I'm not a regular at this geekfest, remember?" He grumbles as Vince gathers us in for a team talk. I catch Lumen's eye and she smiles.

The girls talk most of the way through the match; the conversation looks really serious for a while. Deb is drinking and ordering more pitchers for everyone, topping up our glasses while we bowl. The opposite team, some women from records called 'Filing Foxes', are good and Vince is desperate that we beat them, but they're on top form and Deb is not helping.

Quinn picks up his ball and makes for the lane. He polishes it briefly against his borrowed shirt and this earns him a lewd mumble from Deb. He grins, turns and flips her the finger.

"Just one? What a disappointment!" She crows, and he shakes his head and bites his lip. Nice, Deb. Lumen catches my eye and smiles; I can see that she and Deb are getting along famously.

Quinn bends to bring his arm back, the ball ready for his strike.

"Nice ass Quinn!" Deb laughs and he shakes his butt, causing her to laugh even louder. The 'Filing Foxes' are grinning, no wonder, they're going to beat us easily at this rate. Vince sighs.

"Cute though your sexual banter is, Morgan, it's going to cost us the game if you don't rein it in a little!" he snaps. This just earns him more guffaws from Deb and Quinn sniggers.

Finally, Quinn bowls and hits all the pins. Deb stands and cheers and he makes a point of walking by Masuka to high five her. Vince scowls and looks at me.

"You're up Dex; at least I know I won't have to worry about one Morgan's inappropriate humour." I smile briefly and go to collect my ball. It's one that used to belong to Joe Driscoll, my biological father. I didn't take much from his house when he died but I figured the balls were worth some money and I needed a spare set.

I slip my fingers into the holes and hear a snigger from Deb. Instinctively I look up and see Lumen blushing, what has Deb just said to her? Lumen nods and bites her lip and laughs like she shouldn't be joining in. I look down at my hand, three fingers deep in the ball. Oh, right. I sigh and shake my head.

"Detective Morgan can you please show some decorum?" Vince sound exasperated and it's not like him to miss a crude joke, he must be feeling the pressure from this Su Lin chick. "This is our last ball and Dexter's got to get them all down this time." Deb tries to stifle her laugh but then I reposition my fingers in the ball and she snorts again, Lumen has her head in her hands, laughing. Even Angel is chortling to himself, his mouth hidden behind his hand. I grin and then straighten my face when Vince glares at me. I shrug and move towards the lane, hearing the slight sniggering from behind me.

I let go of all the distractions, the ridiculous urge I feel to be good at this because Lumen is here, Deb's giggling and the pressure from Vince. I make everything in my head silent and I focus on the pins. I'm good at this, avoiding distraction and feeling the moment. I'm better with a knife in my hand.

I let go of the ball on my forward swing and it slides smoothly down the polished wood and strikes out all the pins. I hear Lumen cheering and Deb clapping. I turn to find the whole team grinning at me and the women of the opposition nodding appreciatively, if a little regretfully. I make a mock bow.

"I think this calls for tequila!" says Masuka, grinning now we've won and he doesn't feel the need to play the harsh team captain. Quinn goes to the bar with Angel. "Gotta squirt," Vince tells us as he makes for the restrooms. Lumen, Deb and I all grimace.

"Eww," Deb shakes her head and then puts up her hand, "go Dexter Morgan, killer strike there!" I raise my hand and she slaps it enthusiastically. I grin and take Lumen's beer and finish it for her. She just smiles.

"So, have you ladies had a nice night?" I ask, as I look at the array of empty glasses on the table. Deb nods and laughs and Lumen points to the majority of the glasses.

"These are Deb's," she says, "but yeah, we've had a good night, right Deb?" Deb nods.

"Yep, we've talked all about you. I've told Lumen what a pain of an older brother you were when we were kids, about how you snitched to dad when I borrowed his gun, how you threw hay at me anytime we ever got near a farm, you know, that stuff." She grins at me and I smile back, the side of my mouth lifted.

"Oh right, did you tell her about all the boys I had to turn away from the house too? Some of them with more force than others? Tommy Pedersen?" I cock my head and watch Deb bite her lip.

"I might have missed those events out, you know," she grins. Lumen laughs.

The boys come back with tequila and it's three more shots before we get chance to get away. We decide to share a cab with Deb and Quinn; the apartment's a short walk from where Quinn lives.

"I can drive you to pick up the SUV tomorrow before work if you like?" Deb suggests as we get out at their house and Quinn pays the driver. I hand him our half of the fare and he nods to me.

"Thanks, that'd be great," I grab Lumen's hand and we start to walk. "Thanks for a good night, see you tomorrow!"

"Hey, Dex! What are you doing with your free night tomorrow? Lumen said the kids were staying over at Colleen's?" Quinn is unlocking the door and Deb has her hand on his back as he bends to the lock.

"We're going out!" I call back, aware that the neighbours might be sleeping.

"Want company?" Deb says and Quinn straightens and says something and she hits him lightly on the arm. I look at Lumen.

"Er... it's a thing, Deb, you know, members only." Even from here I see Deb's eyebrows raised in the streetlight at my response; she nods, eyes wide.

"Ok, well, have fun guys! Don't tie the knots too tight!" Quinn barks a laugh and they stumble inside. Lumen looks at me and smiles, her eyebrow raised.

"Well, at least it's cover I suppose," she grins and I nod.

"Yep, Deb's not going to ask about that... well, not yet anyway."

"She will though, eventually, some of the things she asked me tonight!" Lumen laughs. "Honestly, do you two never talk? She had so many questions. And she told me about Rudy." She looks up at me, "Did you kill him?"

I stop walking and look up at the moon. The night sky is clear apart from some pale clouds which scud across the sky; there must be wind up there, high above Miami. Biney, Brian, Rudy, whatever we're going to call him, my brother, has been in my thoughts a lot since I met Lumen. When I slit his throat I thought that I had just killed the last chance I had to be really close to someone, have someone really love me, all of me. It's looking like I was wrong.

So many times I've nearly told her about my brother but when is the time right for that kind of revelation? I sigh and she squeezes my hand.

"Yes. Yes, I killed him. He was a monster, he'd killed lots of innocent people and he had to go." Even to me my voice sounds far away.

"Well, of course, he kidnapped your sister, he was going to kill her, Dexter," Lumen has no trouble understanding this part of the situation but will she understand it all? I nod and turn to face her, looking her right in the eye.

"There's more to it than just this, he'd planned it all, the murders, the clues, the whole 'Ice Truck Killer' thing, just to get my attention. He was courting me, luring me in. Even kidnapping Deb was for me, he wanted us to kill her together." Lumen looks at me, her eyes widening, I think she understands but then her next words show that she doesn't get my point at all.

"You were lovers?" She frowns and I can see her trying to fit this in to the picture she has of me. I grimace, the idea, the kernel of truth behind it is right.

"No, he was my brother." I hear her take a sharp breath but she doesn't look away. "I didn't know I had a brother, he was older than me and I was only three when Mom was killed. Harry took me in and Brian went into care. He found me eventually, realised we both had the same...needs and then he set about getting my attention." Lumen releases my hand; for a minute I'm free falling, no one holding the string of my balloon. Then she grips my arm.

"He wanted you to kill Deb? So that there was just you and him?" She understands, it seems so simple and yet it's so fucking momentous that for a second I can't quite take it in. I nod. "Oh god, Dexter." She reaches up and pulls my head down to hers. She kisses me, a slow burn which builds and builds until the noise in my head of Brian's life gurgling away is scorched away by the feel of her lips on mine. I put my hands on her waist and pull her flush against me.

**I really enjoyed writing this chapter! It was fun to take the guys out and be a little normal, if only a little. Thanks for your lovely reviews so far. It makes my day when I get to hear what you think so far! Thanks to Lostie17 for Angel translations and to VB for being the best friend a strange obsessive could ever have. Cx**


	21. Confessions

We walk the rest of the way back to the apartment, Lumen's hand wound tightly in mine. I try to name, to categorise, this feeling I have inside me, this strange lightness which is based in the pit of my stomach. Acceptance, I think that's what it is, Lumen's acceptance of it all. Brian, the Dark Passenger, all of me and my complicated shadowy life which she just understands and then carries on loving me. I am walking on eggshells, waiting for the bubble to burst, it has to.

"Dexter?" Her voice seems thoughtful and I glance sideways to see her twisting her hair in her free hand, looking ahead but not seeing the road.

"Mm?" I can feel that this is a big question, something she's been pondering and turning over in her head, like coffee filtering through paper.

"Remember when I asked if you always used the knife?" I nod, but I don't make a sound because I don't think I can. She wants to know, Dex, my inner voice sounds a lot like Harry. She wants to know about the drill, the hand saw, the chainsaw. Fuck.

"What else do you use?" her voice is still light but I know the undertone, the beginning of flight in her voice as she manifests the question of how I kill, makes it real between us. I walk a few more steps and she doesn't push me. I almost wish she would, at least that way I could be prompted, take some clues from her voice. It's one of those moments again, a cusp.

I stop walking and bite my lip. I feel her looking up at me and I frown, trying to summon the courage from somewhere. I can't ask her to understand this; to her, the killing is a means to an end, not an end in itself. She's only seen me use a knife, only used a knife herself. In my head I see her sanitised view of who I am, what I do. Fuck it.

"Nothing..." She looks at me and her expression changes. I watch, and imagine I can see her thoughts chasing over her face. She settles for disbelief, it hurts like a blade.

"Did you just lie to me?" Her voice is soft but all the more cutting for the gentle tone. I look up at the moon again, like that dead, white lump of stone is going to help me out of this situation. I close my eyes and my mind is like the inside of a snow globe, ideas floating madly, too many for me to grasp and own. I nod. She sighs and walks a few steps on. I stand in the road and watch her walk away.

"Dexter," Harry's voice is urgent, insistent, "are you going to let her walk away, son?

"She can't take the truth Harry; it's not fair to ask her to accept what I am, not all of me." Harry looks at me with exasperation, he looks back at the retreating figure of Lumen as she walks under a street light. Her hair seems to be on fire in the yellow glow.

"You're not in a position to decide that for her, Dex! This is what normal life is about, taking chances, putting yourself on the line. Could you lie to her and still be with her?" I look at Harry, through Harry and into the night where the woman I love is walking away. No, no, I can't lie to her, not when I've gone so far down this road.

"Lumen!" I jog towards her and she turns, even in the dim light I can see the wet streaks on her cheeks. Something rips through my stomach, something cold and mean. She doesn't say anything as I get near to her, she just looks at me. She doesn't try to hide her grief.

"Dexter," she bites her lip and looks down at the floor.

"Sometimes I use a drill, or a handsaw. Once, I used a chainsaw." The words sound strange on the air; I've never admitted anything like this before. Not to Dr Meridian, the therapist I killed, not to Doakes when I could tell him anything, he was going to die anyway, not even to Brian, even though he knew. Lumen looks up at me. I close my eyes because I can't bear to see the expression on her face. No doubt she's imagining all these bloody scenarios. I hear her breathing, so she hasn't run away, not taken the opportunity of my closed eyes to escape my terrible clutches. I feel something touch my hand. It's her fingers.

"Thank you," she says quietly. I open my eyes and she is still crying but her mouth is crooked in a small smile. I nod, because I don't know what else to do. She takes my hand and we carry on walking, I can almost hear her thinking.

She changes the subject, we discuss Quinn and Deb, their relationship and how they seem so evenly matched. We talk about Masuka, Su Lin, bowling, anything but chainsaws and power drills.

It isn't until we're in bed that she brings the subject up again. Sonja's passed the baton of the sleeping kids over to us and we've checked on Harrison and brushed our teeth. She's lying in the crook of my arm and my other arm is bent up under the pillow.

"You really enjoy the killing, don't you?" I feel her words against my chest. I nod. "Do you like hurting people, Dexter?" I frown into the night. Oh god, how do I answer that? This truth thing is going to kill me.

"Yes, I do. It's part of the release, I suppose." I blow out a long breath, trying, not for the first time, to work out my dark urges. "But it's all tied up now, in the Code. I don't know what was mine before and what Harry made of me." I lie there for a minute and listen to her breathe.

"Sometimes they deserve the pain and then it's like I give my Dark Passenger free rein, like I get permission to really let the monster out of its cage. Other times they just have to die, quickly and that's enough too," I try not to say the next words but they come out anyway, "but, yes, I enjoy hurting them."

Her hand moves over my skin, along the scar from when I was ten, under and across my rib bones. She taps her fingers lightly against me, drumming like she's conjuring the truth out of me, then she raises herself on one elbow. Her mouth is near mine and I can feel her breathing. I look up into those dark eyes but I can't tell what she's thinking.

"You've never hurt me," she says softly. For a second I try to imagine what that would be like to make her scream, see that look of terror on her face, feel that power. It's like a brick wall. I try the same thing with Harrison, Cody, Astor, nothing. I can't even make my mind imagine it, it feels like a horse refusing a jump or that the idea is so slippery that my thoughts just slide away from it. I frown, shake my head.

Lila, Brian, Miguel, all people I have been close to and then had to kill. But it's not the same, it's not. All of them threatened me, threatened my life, my life with Deb, with Rita, the kids. I know that Lumen will never be that threat. I know it in such a solid, tangible way that my brain won't even comprehend the concept of having to protect myself from her.

I can't move, everything slows down and the realisation that I trust her, that I can never hurt her, hits me like an articulated truck, like an ice age, a meteor. I can hear my blood in my ears, feel her gaze on my face, but I can't move.

"Dexter?" Her hand touches my face, it breaks the spell. I turn to her, lying along my side and bringing my arm down to hold the small of her back. I shake my head dumbly, trying to find words that aren't natural to me, not in my vocabulary, like an alien language.

"I'll never hurt you Lumen. I can't." The next words escape me and I look down almost expecting them to be burning on the air like the words of a god I don't believe in. "It would be like hurting myself." She smiles, it's not an expression of happiness but it radiates warmth, security, all those things I've craved without understanding what they are.

It still doesn't feel like I've expressed myself right, really made sense of the enormous, burgeoning feeling inside me. I kiss her, trying to tell her with my lips this thing, this fathomless emotion I am feeling. What is this? I frown as her lips touch mine, it doesn't feel enough. It's not close enough, not deep enough. This moment is so overwhelming that kissing her isn't enough. I roll her over onto her back; pressing my mouth to hers and feeling her lips open beneath mine. One hand is in her hair and the other moves down her body, a fierce touch, as I try to tell her what she means, what this all means with just my hands and my mouth. I roll my fingers up, under her nightshirt, pushing it up to her neck. She pulls away, fighting for air and she laughs as she drags a deep breath in. I smile and move my kisses to her throat, down her clavicle and I press my mouth to her sternum, both hands on her shoulders. I can feel her heart beating under my lips.

She arches under me and I slide my tongue across one breast, feeling the ridge of a scar and the curve of her body like some contour map of my whole world. She gasps as I put the flat of my tongue against her nipple. The blood pounds in my ears; once again there is nothing but Lumen. One hand on her other breast, I tease the nipple with my teeth, then swap, alternating the sensations and I am rewarded by a long moan. It sets my body on fire.

I move lower, realising that I don't want to possess her, I want to thank her. Thank her for accepting me; for once again taking in that three year old boy covered in blood, she is a new Harry. The man who was my god and my creator is superseded by this woman who clutches at the mattress and trembles as I skim my tongue past her navel and down between her legs.

The scent of her, the heat and the wet openness of her makes me catch my breath. The assault on my senses is almost too much, I hesitate and I hear her hiss in her breath over her teeth. The sound is so sensual, conveying such desire, that I dip my head to taste her, all patience gone.

I reach for her hips and pull her down the bed, opening her wide so that I can show her how impatient I am for her, how much I want her.

She holds my hair in her hands and her hips ride along with the movement of my tongue. I brush my lips over her and she shivers against me. Hard and then softly, down and then across, I vary my pace, the pressure, until she is almost suspended on my tongue; sometimes only her heels, hands and shoulders still in contact with the bed. Carefully I reach up my hands and place them on her breasts, grounding her body and holding her so she knows I am there.

I match my tongue to the movement of her hips, taking my cues from her, speeding up when I can feel the pressure building. The sound of her voice becoming hoarse, saying my name, telling me she loves me, all of me. Her thrusts become less rhythmic, more demanding, and I follow where she takes me. I feel her tensing, muscles clenched to an impossible degree and then she lets go.

I close my eyes as she tells me that she belongs to me, she says it fiercely, half sitting up as she comes and I slow my movements with her calming body. She falls back against the pillow, breathing heavily, laughing to herself.

I rest my head against her thigh for a moment, savouring the peace, the softness of her skin and the languid posture of her body, knowing that I made her feel this way makes me grin. She touches my forehead with her hands, smoothing back my damp hair with a gesture that is so familiar, so Lumen, that I grin wider.

"Come here," she whispers, I move up the mattress and lie next to her on the pillow. She is smiling, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and she giggles. "Thank you," she says and kisses me. She makes to move her hand down my body, no doubt thinking to return the gesture but I stop her hand. She frowns.

"That was yours, I can't find the words for this Lumen, I don't need..." She smiles again and tucks her head onto my shoulder. I stroke my broad hand down her delicate bones and listen to her breathing deepen as she sleeps.

I lie there, in the semi darkness and make a checklist of my feelings. I sift through my closest people, testing myself about how I'd feel if they got hurt, went missing, died.

Masuka, my internal monster meter tells me I would miss him, if he were gone. I missed him at work today. I'm not sure what that means. LaGuerta, she's more than just my boss sometimes but she still makes me uncomfortable, all that raw emotion she has kicking around her like an invisible gas. Angel? Yes, I feel something for Angel. He tries to look after me, confides in me and I wouldn't want to let him down. Then I get to Deb and the kids, I get a fierce burn in my gut when I try to think of anything bad happening to them. The feeling is intense, scary. This must be some form of love, whatever version I am capable of feeling. I remember the hollowness when Rita died.

Then I get to Lumen, I look at her breathing quietly, resting her head on my arm. The thought of her not being here, of something dreadful happening to her brings back the sharp sensation I have with Deb, with the kids, but then there's something else.

As I look at her the sharpness subsides and a warm, liquid heat seeps through my bones, starting at my solar plexus and radiating out until I can almost see its golden shine all over me. I lie there, scared to move and wonder what is happening to me? It feels like an emergence, like a chrysalis opening, breaking apart. What the hell am I? The question begs another. What have I been? If I'm not intrinsically, mentally, down at cell level, a monster, then what have I been doing all these years?

The thought rocks me. If I've been capable of this all the time, why have I been hiding behind the monster? There's a thought. It's not the mask of normality I am using to protect my demon self, it's the other way around. I'm acting the demon, the monster, to protect the real me, the ordinary, loving man. Jesus.

I think back to the first night I really shared at the Narcotics Anonymous meeting. The night Lila became my sponsor with all that that entailed in the end. Even then people were beginning to matter, I was starting to care. Was that because, for the first time, I put myself in that position? Near enough to people for them to start to figure on my emotional map? Or was this potential always there? Latent? Dormant? Oh god. Have I really wasted all this time?

But I still need to kill, right? I feel for the internal clock which tells me when the dark wave will rise up and carry me along again. Yep, he's still there. My Dark Passenger, who likes to take the wheel and drive, and I like to let him. I still want the knife; I glance down at Lumen and correct myself, the weapon, in my hand. That sublime stillness as I make the first cut. I still crave the silence when their last breath is gone, when they finish pleading and accept that I am their ultimate fate. The thought makes my blood rush, my body responds to the thrill of the images my mind replays for it.

This is in me, for real. I don't want the Dark Passenger to go and yet he's the barrier between me and the normal world. He's the guy that stops me being who I could be, stops me filling out that gap in life with my name written on it.

Can I be both? Can I be the monster and the man? Is this what everyone is, deep down, and I've just accepted it? Embraced my primal urge to kill and now it won't go away? I don't want it to go away. Inside Angel, Masuka, Quinn, is there a dark passenger buried deep? There was inside of Doakes. I saw it and it saw me. The idea that this is what is in all of us, I make the inclusion of myself almost by accident, makes me stare at the ceiling in wonder. Instead of being half a man, someone unformed, disfigured, am I really the model of what mankind really is? Are they all monsters and all men too?

There's noise from the lounge, Harrison mumbling in his sleep. Is he both of these things too? I've seen his primal side, the side which will push over another kid to get a toy he wants. Seeing him develop should have made me feel better. I saw in him all the things I am and how he learns to repress them to make himself fit in. How he smiles because it gets him what he wants. I nod to myself. Maybe it's true, maybe everyone is like me and I am like everyone. Will the real Dexter Morgan please stand up?

**I didn't think how much Dexter would have to explain to Lumen in order for them to have a 'real' relationship but there's lots he didn't tell her. I hope I'm doing an ok job of filling the gaps and writing out a believable Season Six. Thanks for all your kind comments so far, I really do love to hear from you. Thanks too, if you put me on author or story alert but don't review, it's nice to know people are reading (even if I don't know why! :D) thanks, as always, go to VB for being an ace friend and beta and to Loastie17 for the invaluable list for Angel. Cx**


	22. Biscayne Point

I drop the kids at Sonja's with their sleepover things and then Lumen to her work. There's a tangible layer of silence when the car is empty. Just me and my shadow, I grin to myself.

The thoughts of last night are replaying in my head. Lumen wasn't weird with me when she woke up, the opposite in fact. She kissed me gently and hugged into my arm until the alarm, and the noise from the kids, said we had to go. Between us, I felt we had taken another step. How many of these steps to the new me will there be?

I am conscious of the people around me as I drive to the station. Truck drivers, bus drivers, moms taking their kids to school, joggers, old people, dog walkers, all harbouring, hiding their inner monster. I listen to them shouting at each other in traffic, yelling at the kids to shut up, pulling along their pets and something clicks. I'm right aren't I? They could all do what I do, if they let themselves.

"Does this mean you don't want to let go of those urges, Dex?" Harry asks me, his mouth barely moving like he doesn't want to own the words. I glance at him as I swing the SUV into the police parking lot.

"I don't know," I sigh and sit back in my seat, watching Quinn and Deb enter the building without seeming to notice I am there. "It'd be nice not to have this internal countdown, the fear of being caught but..."

"But then there'd be no thrill either, would there Dex?" Harry turns to me and he frowns. I frown too, imagining a life without that thrill, that exhilarating sense of being utterly wrong. I nod. I hear him sigh as I grab my bag from where he was sitting a second ago.

Masuka is in the little lab, his head down over a microscope when I get out of the elevator. He glances up at me, smiles thinly and goes back to the work he is studying. Angel waves me over before I can get to my chair.

"Hey, Dex! Socio, will you try to talk to Vince? I am worried about the little guy." He purses his lips and shakes his head sorrowfully. "I had to swing by and pick him up this morning, Maria sent me to fetch him. I think even she is worried." I glance to LaGuerta's office where she is sitting at her desk, looking over at the forlorn figure of Vince Masuka. I nod and pat Angel on the shoulder. He puts his hand over mine. "Gracias, Dex."

I make my way to the workstation, careful to let Vince know I am approaching, he looks jumpy.

"Hey, Vince! Good morning! Wasn't that victory last night just great? Did you see that blonde girl from 'Filing Foxes' checking you out?" he glances up, again the pale smile.

"Yeah, but I thought it would be best not to attract any attention to myself, you know, with Su Lin about?" He actually mimes slashing with a sword. I wince. Vince Masuka turning down female company? This is bad. I scoot my chair over to him.

"Hey, if it's her, we'll find her. I promise. But I have to say, Vince, that I've been through all those samples and none of them come up as a match for her." He looks up at me and bites his lip. He bends towards me and lowers his voice to a theatrical whisper.

"Look, I'm only asking you because you're a friend and... well, you're the best blood guy in the state." I look at him, eyebrows raised. "You are, I've said it before! Anyway, in that plastic bag are some... DNA samples, from Su Lin. Will you run them against the evidence from the crime scene? Deb said you had some samples which were not identified by the tests from witnesses." I nod again and glance nervously at the bag Vince is pointing to. What the fuck is in there?

Cautiously I pick up the bag, it feels light but that's no indication of safety. I pat Vince on the shoulder and he nods morosely. I take the bag into my little lab and turn on the lamp, close the blinds.

I shake the contents of the bag onto a sheet of paper. To my relief it seems to consist of nail clippings and some long strands of hair. I prepare the nail clippings and go to the rack to find the samples from the night club, remembering, when I'm halfway through looking, that I downloaded the findings and I can just use the Mac to find the matches, if there are any.

The nail clippings are ready by the time I get the witness samples up on the screen. A commotion outside makes me prise open the blinds with my fingers. Deb is rushing to the elevator, calling behind her to Angel and Quinn, waving her arm in my direction. It looks urgent.

I'm just saving the nail sample data onto the Mac and grabbing my bag when Angel comes through the door, blinking from contrast of the bright sunlight out in the office to the gloom of my lab.

"Dex, compadre, there's been another samurai murder, Biscayne Point. Another Asian male, or so it seems. So, gotta go." He passes me my bag off the back of the chair and I put it over my shoulder and grab the coffee cup which I've hardly touched since I got in. I take a sip and grimace, ugh, cold.

"Don't worry, Dex, there's a great place for coffee down on Biscayne Point."

"Is Vince coming?" I look to the empty seat where Masuka's jacket and work seem to testify to the fact he hasn't left the station. Angle shakes his head.

"Nope, Maria has him running through the samples from the little girl killer from a week or so back, remember?" I nod. Yes, I remember, I know exactly what happened to him. It's a pointless task for Vince but it might keep his mind off things.

As we drive to Biscayne Point, Angel insists he comes with me this time and comments on the spacious interior of the SUV as he settles himself into the passenger seat; I turn over the new events in the beheadings. Angel throws his hat onto the dashboard and winds down the window.

"So, surely this means Vince's girl is off the hook for these killings? She can't think both men were Masuka, can she?" Angel makes a face to say he doesn't know, he shrugs too. "Surely she'd notice the second guy wasn't Vince, after she fucked up the first killing, she'd notice, right?" Angel nods slowly, sighs.

"It looks that way to me, Dex, but who knows how the female mind works." He sounds tired.

"Things still bad with Maria?" I ask him, astonished at my own interpersonal skills, all this thinking I have been doing seems to be really affecting me. He glances to me, sighs again and nods.

"You know, Dex, I sometimes wonder if man is meant to spend all his time with a woman, you know?" He looks at me and smiles. "Of course, you won't agree, being in the first flush of romance." I smile and shrug a shoulder. The rest of the journey is silent as we both think our own thoughts. Another companionable silence, they seem to be happening more and more often these days.

The area of the beach is fluttering in yellow tape and fenced off with police cars, uniformed and plain clothes cops. In the distance I can see Deb and Quinn, she has her hands on her hips and he's looking down at something. Angel and I walk over to them. Angel flashes his badge and I show my laminate to the cop keeping back the crowd and we duck under the tape.

The body is lying in a gulley made by sea water as it sweeps back to the sea. The gulley weaves and meanders a snaking path to the ocean. The corpse would be lying with its head towards the ocean, if it had a head. There's a deep incision either side of the neck where the blade from the weapon embedded into the sand as the killer swung his or her weapon down.

"Dex, thank fuck! More weirdness. What do you make of this?" Deb points to the stream where it snakes off down the beach. The sand is red, brown red, like rust.

"The blood's run out to sea, well, where it hasn't sunk into the sand." I kneel down and scrape a sample into a jar and put it in my bag. I squint into the sun to where Deb stands over me, her mouth in a thin line, those sunglasses high on her nose as the breeze ruffles her fine hair.

"Is this a pattern? Is this guy, girl, whatever the cocksucker is, killing where the blood runs away?" I stand up and cover my eyes from the sun's glare, tracing the line of red down the beach.

"When's high tide?" I ask and Quinn looks over.

"In forty minutes, you've not got much time to process the site." He looks at his watch and frowns. I nod and kneel down to examine the body.

"Asian male, probably about the same age as the last victim. He's been dead about..." I poke about the body, checking the lividity of the flesh, the discoloration. "Three hours? Was that when the last high tide had just gone out?" I look at Deb; she looks at Quinn, who nods.

"Yep, just as this place was uncovered I'd guess. Do you think the killer knew that?" Quinn looks at me like I'd know inside a killer's mind. I frown.

"Well, it sure looks that way doesn't it? The flushing toilet and now this." Deb waves her hand at the body dismissively and then raises her voice. "Right people, let's get this fucker processed before the goddamn tide washes us all out to the ocean. If my brother wants something, he gets it. Is that clear people?" Various uniformed cops and lab geeks look at me and nod. I put up my hand, Deb cocks an eyebrow.

"Can I get a coffee?" She sighs and rolls her eyes but then trudges over to the nearest uniform and I see her pointing at the coffee stand. I go to work with the camera.

"See this?" I poke the victim's wrist with the tip of my pen, there's a small black mark over the join where his hand meets his arm. Angel and Quinn bend low to have a look.

"A tattoo? Prison tattoo?" Quinn crouches over the red sand, wobbles and falls on his knee, he curses. "Fuck! Sorry Dex." I look up at him, his pants are dyed red and the crime scene is disturbed.

"Hey, what's this?" Angel is pointing to the sand which has been dislodged by Quinn's fall. I stand up and move down the body to see what it is Angel is pointing at.

It's a cross, a small silver crucifix to be exact and, for a moment, my mind wanders to the prayers I've heard Sonja saying to Harrison before he goes to sleep. I hook the cross out with my pen; it's attached to a snapped silver chain.

"That's not Asian," he says, frowning and squinting at the jewellery as it twirls in the sunlight. "Well, I don't think so." He looks at me and shrugs. "It looks like one my mother used to wear, very Catolica." I nod, it makes sense, but nothing else in this crime scene makes any sense at all. Angel and I watch the cross spin on the end of its broken chain. He holds the evidence bag and I drop it inside.

"So, the tattoo? Is Quinn right? Is it a prison job?" I ask as I look back at the body. The stained sand gives the disturbing impression that there is a long red snake attached to the stump of the neck. It's like something out of those medieval European pictures of hell. Angel purses his lips.

"Maybe, it doesn't look like any prison tattoo I have ever seen though. What about you, Dex? Any ideas?" I don't have much experience with prison tattoos, only the ones I've seen on my victims and on my bio dad, Joe Driscoll. This doesn't look like them, although it is crudely done. "What is it?"

"It looks like a bowler hat with a feather in the brim. Who gets that drawn on their body forever?" I quirk an eyebrow and look up at Angel, who just shakes his head.

"Some people are crazy, amigo. I'm going to see where that coffee got to, ok?"

"Right, I'll get some more shots and meet you by the car. Not much more for me to do here when the guys have already taken sand samples. Is Deb having the body moved to the morgue?" He nods and wanders away across the beach. I stand, head cocked, looking down at the body.

"What happened to you, huh?" I mumble to the dead man but he's not telling. I snap some shots of the angle of the body, a few of the wound in the neck and the strange tattoo on the inside of his wrist. Then I pack the camera carefully back into my bag and make for where Angel is standing with Deb.

"Anything new?" Deb asks as I take the coffee from Angel with a nod of thanks.

"Well, there's that symbol on his wrist and the crucifix." Deb's eyes go wide.

"The what? Did you say a fucking crucifix?" She is standing up straight, all her body alert. I look at Angel but he doesn't seem to know anything, I nod. "Mother of fuck!" Deb paces a few steps away and then is back in my face. "This crucifix, fancy? Detailed?" I nod again and reach into my bag and show her the evidence. She shakes her head.

"What is it?" Angel asks, looking at her and then me when she doesn't answer. Deb glares at him.

"I found one of those, outside the night club. I didn't think anything of it, it was way over where we parked the car so..." she reaches inside her shirt and pulls out the same cross on a silver chain.

"You stole evidence?" I say, shocked. Deb punches me hard on the arm, I wince. "Ow!"

"Fucker! I didn't _know _it was evidence, Dex! I just found it on the ground. I asked the night club owner if it was his. Shit!" She unclips the cross and holds it up. We all look at it; the sun catches the twisted form of Jesus as he dies in agony. Nice. I hold up the evidence bag, the crosses are identical.

"We'll have to test this one for prints," I say, shaking the bag. "Yours will be too clean by now to find anything but your own." Deb nods, she looks annoyed with herself. I don't blame her.

"Ok, I'm done here," I say, closing up my bag and drinking my coffee. Deb nods morosely and Angel smiles.

"Hey, have fun at that thing you're going to tonight, Dex." Deb perks up when she remembers my engagement this evening. I frown and then realise she thinks I'm off to some bondage party. I grimace.

"Oh yeah, thanks Deb. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, huh?" She shakes her head vigorously, I laugh.

All the way back to the station I think about the body on the beach, the one in the nightclub. Both decapitated, both with the blood washing away, crosses, tattoos. I need to research that image of the bowler hat and check if the nightclub victim had anything similar. There is something niggling in the back of my head but I can't pin it down.

Masuka isn't at the lab when I get in. There's a note from him saying he went home early so he's 'not following a pattern anyone can trace'. I sigh; this is getting out of hand. We've got to solve this crime before Vince goes completely insane.

I look at my watch, no time to process the crucifix right now; I put it on a rack next to the sand samples and run my shot of the tattoo through the police database. It looks like it's going to take all night to sift through all the gang symbols, icons and esoteric alphabets. I wish we had access to the FBI records. Agent Lundy would have had this information in minutes.

I leave the Mac running and turn off the lights. I'll check the results in the morning. I'd better hit traffic or I'll be late for my evening with Lumen. The thought of us out, stalking, together, gets my blood pounding, makes me feel lightheaded and giddy. I wave cheerily to LaGuerta as I get into the elevator. She waves back, laughing, obviously amused to see me so perky.

When I pick Lumen up outside her apartment she has a bag with her and she's holding a pair of strappy high heeled sandals. It's not her usual footwear and I raise my eyebrow and she laughs as she leans over to kiss me.

"They're part of my outfit, so I blend in tonight." She grins at my startled expression. I suppose I hadn't realised that this would be so different for her. I'll be wearing my checked shirt, my baseball cap, baggy pants and sneakers, an outfit which will help me blend in at 'Judy's Bar and Grill', not the most salubrious of venues. But Lumen will have to fit in too. Her clean, respectable, kindergarten worker look is not going to ease her entry into the confidence of Tina DiMarco. Female Serial Killing 101, I'd never imagined it could be so complex.

"What else is in there?" I ask, raising an eyebrow in mock alarm. She laughs and holds the bag to her chest.

"You'll have to wait and see." I look ahead at the road but all I can see are those sandals and I'm wondering what she might wear to accompany them.

**Thanks for all the reviews and votes of confidence! You guys are fab! It's great to know so many people are still enjoying 'Season 6' with me. Keep letting me know what you're enjoying, it makes this more fun to write. Thanks for the vocab for Angel, Lostie17 and thanks for the commas, caps for Angel and keeping me sane VB, love you! Cx**


	23. Jase and Sammy go out drinking

I'm sitting at the breakfast bar while Lumen changes. The sunlight is dimming now as the sun sets over the sea, casting everything into pink with its dying light.

"So, what do you think?" I hear the words and turn before I can really focus my thoughts to say something sensible. I've been running over the plan for this evening in my head. Get to the bar, target DiMarco and Greco, get talking, separate them, see what we can find out. It should be safe but I think we might have to meet this delightful couple once or twice more before we get the evidence required by the Code. My brain's still running through ways to get Greco to tell when I look at Lumen.

I know it's been ridiculously hot the last few days here in Miami but Lumen's outfit seems to be indecent even for the weather. She's wearing cut off jean shorts again, like those she used to lure Daniels to his death. The top of her body is covered with a white men's shirt, tied over her midriff. It hides most of the bad scars across her back and reveals a slice of black lace bra just over the place where the buttons should be fastened. The silver strappy heels, large silver hooped earrings and a couple of chains and bracelets finish her outfit. Her hair is pulled up and back in a tight pony tail from which a few hairs escape down her cheek. Her makeup, usually understated, is much bolder. Her lips slicked pink and her lashes dark and longer than I remember. My expression must be strange because she laughs nervously and her hand goes to her throat, a gesture I've realised she makes when she feels self conscious.

She looks down at my baggy sweat pants, the thin checked shirt and then up to the cap. Her eyebrow quirks.

"What a pair we make." She shakes her head, the pony tail bounces. "Do we have names?" I frown; I usually pick a name out of the air, the environment I'm in. I remember how much trouble Kyle Butler got me into.

"What do you want to be called?" I ask, walking over to this strange woman wearing Lumen's expressions. She bites her glossed lip.

"Sam." She's thought about this and I realise she already has another name, people in her other life know her as Elle. "Who're you?" she smiles and holds out her hand.

"Jason, nice to meet you, Miss." I let my accent slip a little, less enunciation on the consonants, nothing too fakey. She grins as I grab her hand and shake.

"Ok, Jase," she giggles. "What's the plan?" Still holding her hand I go to the sofa, she follows.

"We don't drink much, if at all, but we make it look like we match them glass for glass. I'll find a way to get talking to them; just go along with what I say. As soon as we're all talking then we need to separate them, they'll tell us more if they're not together."

"If she goes to the bathroom, I could go with her?" I nod; it's a good idea and looks much less suspicious because it's what women do. Again, another lesson in serial killing for women. "What do we do if it gets awkward? If we think they suspect something?" Her voice sounds edgy and I see she is twisting her hands in her lap. She looks down and notices the movement.

"It's ok to be nervous," I tell her, putting my hand over hers. She shakes her head.

"No, I'm not nervous, just wired. I'll be fine when we're there, doing it. Don't worry about me." She smiles at me and reaches over to kiss me. I breathe in her scent, fuzzy this time, under some strong perfume but still there, comforting, intoxicating.

"Ok, if something goes wrong then we just get out. If it looks bad then we have an argument, ok? Slap me and walk off. DiMarco and Greco are not going to get involved in our drama."

"But they are already involved in our drama; they just don't know it yet." Lumen's smile is dark.

We park the SUV a few block from the bar, making sure we walk the rest of the way to stop anyone noticing that our transport doesn't really fit in with our characters. We don't talk and Lumen's heels clack along the sidewalk. This part of town is more run down, no need to clean up for the tourists; none of them go down this way.

Weeds grow between the slabs of concrete and most of the streetlights are flickering. I guess the mayor doesn't care too much about the folk who live in these parts. We see a couple of stores selling liquor and probably other, more illegal, goods. Young men slump outside, smoking, playing music on their car stereos. Their vehicles are low slung, bright paint jobs, fancy interiors paid for by the week out of minimum wages, drug earnings.

No one bothers us. My sloping gait and possessive hand on Lumen's arm gives off a signal that these smaller sharks understand. Another couple would be chum in the water, easy prey, but these boys recognise a killer, whether they know it or not.

Small, dirty children are playing in the parking lot of the bar, the green neon sign casting an unhealthy glow over their bodies as though they're children in some zombie apocalypse nightmare. They glance at us briefly before they go back to scrabbling about underneath a car. I have a feeling it might not be there when we come back out.

I go through the door first, holding Lumen's hand and she totters after me on those heels. There's something curiously endearing about the way she moves in those shoes, the way she clutches that ludicrously small purse with the thin strap over her shoulder. I want to smile but Jason wouldn't do that so I keep my face grim.

"A jack, straight up and..." I look at Lumen and she shrugs, already in character. The expression is slightly submissive, slightly doped. I look back at the small selection of drinks. "A Bud." The bar tender barely even grunts as he passes me the bottle of Jack, a shot glass and the beer. Somewhere on the jukebox Hank Williams laments that there's a tear in his beer and some men are playing pool while their girlfriends stand about looking bored out of their minds, one of them texting on her phone.

I walk to an empty table and Lumen follows me. As we sit down she looks at me with a pointed expression and slides her eyes sideways. She's right; Greco and DiMarco are on the next table, only a few feet away. His hand is on her bare thigh, the short, tight skirt barely covering her ass and the cropped, green halter neck top clashing with the vivid red bra straps which cut into her shoulders. Her expression is puppy dog, adoring. His is hard, mean. It's pretty much the act we're doing ourselves.

I lean across, my hand on the seat of Lumen's chair, between her legs, and pull her over the floor towards me. The wooden rickety legs screech over the bare boards. She giggles and puts one heeled shoe in my lap. I grin and pull on her ankle, sliding her forward in the chair towards me. She flails out a hand, grabbing the table next to us, nearly falling on the floor, laughing all the while. DiMarco grabs her drink and Greco grins.

"Hey! Watch yourself there!" he says, smiling widely at Lumen. His arms are muscled and entirely laced over with tattoos, not the tasteful etchings you see on lots of people downtown but the crude, black smudges which tell of prison, rough nights.

"Oh, sorry," Lumen smiles at him and I grab her hand proprietarily as DiMarco copies my gesture with Greco's hand.

"Did you spill the guy's drink, Sam?" I hold up the jack. "Want a refill?" Greco rubs his stubbled chin with his hand and nods, even thought his drink is still intact. I lean across and top him up. Lumen smiles at DiMarco.

"Hi, I'm Sam and this is Jason, Jase," she looks at DiMarco's hair, red, straight and frizzy at the ends. "I love that hair colour, what is it?" The woman smiles and touches her fringe.

"Cherry red, you can't get it anymore, my sister's a hairdresser and she stocked up before they stopped selling it. Tina, by the way, and this is Joey." She says it with a flourish in her voice, like she's revealing a precious work of art or an expensive car. He grins a lopsided grin and nods to me.

"Not seen you in here before," he says, studying me intently. I smile and down my Jack in one.

"Nope, we're new in town." I smile at Lumen who drinks her Bud nervously. I know she's worried about the story I'm spinning, waiting for clues for her part in the tale but it looks like that skittish, half cowed girlfriend routine that most of these monsters in here have instilled in their partners.

"Tourists?" Greco frowns as he finishes his drink; no doubt he feels competition in the air. There is no competition; I am the biggest monster here by far. I kill adults, not little babies.

"Nope, we came down her to stay with friends, just some time away from my parents." Lumen takes the initiative, smiling softly at me for approval. All this plays into our characters really nicely. I nod, appreciating her twist on the story. "They don't really approve of me and Jase." She says, looking right at Tina. I watch to see if we've gone too far but Tina nods in sympathy and Greco's grin widens.

"Hey dude, if the parents don't approve it means you must be just right for their daughter!" He slaps his hand on the table and I see him sway in his chair, he's already half drunk. This is getting easier. I need to get him talking so that I can leave Lumen to speak to Tina. Separated, most couples like this fall over their lies, trip themselves up, reveal themselves. I have to just hope that Lumen and I are not most couples.

"You're right there! Hey, I like the art, where'd you get it done?" I lean over and study the ink on his arm. It's blurred but it's clearly a coffin. He looks down to see which picture I am looking at and I see Lumen scoot her chair nearer to Tina's, their heads closer together. I guess women bond faster than men. Maybe they just don't bother with the posturing. Tina asks Lumen about her shoes. Maybe it's different posturing.

"A sad story, my friend," Greco doesn't offer any more information and I nod like I get it, which I don't. I top up his glass; he doesn't notice that I don't touch my own. I glance over at the girls.

Tina is holding Lumen's hand; I hear something about how hard it is when you love someone and then Lumen looks like she's crying. Tina fishes in her purse, a small leopard print number, and hands Lumen a tissue. Lumen dabs her eyes. I look back and Greco and he rolls his eyes. I chuckle.

"Hormones," I , shrugging and he grins. "She's been like that ever since she found out she was knocked up. Got any kids, Joe?" He shakes his head, pulling a face. Tina stands up, Lumen follows shakily.

"We're just going to the ladies' room," Tina says, covering Lumen's upset by standing in front of her, blocking out our view. Joey nods but gives her a long look. She smiles and totters over to kiss him. She's drunk too; she wobbles dangerously, nearly spilling into my lap.

"Whoa there!" I grab her leg to steady her and leer. Joey laughs as Tina huffs and takes Lumen away across the sticky floor.

"Women!" he sighs, still half laughing. I raise my glass and he bangs his glass against it, spilling my drink. He downs the Jack and I top up his glass again.

"Yep, can't live with them, can't kill em with a chainsaw!" I say cheerily. Greco snorts and chokes laughing. I grin.

"Well, you could but you'd have to make sure there were no witnesses, or the witnesses weren't ever going to testify against you!" he sniggers unpleasantly. I nod.

"Yeah, but where'd you find that kind of witness?" I play along, pretending we're planning the imaginary murder of our girlfriends. Greco looks at me, his expression sly.

"Hey, there are reasons that people won't tell the cops you know." He nods conspiratorially. I raise my eyebrows and lean in.

"There are? Dude, you know some fucked up shit." As I expected, he takes it as a compliment. He leans back on the chair, the position precarious. A flick of my leg and he'd be over backwards, smacking his head on the table, splattering his brains everywhere when he hit the hard floor. It's tempting. He gestures towards the bathrooms.

"Tina, she wouldn't tell on me, she never would. No matter what fucked up, nasty shit I did." He downs another glass, not even looking up as I refill.

"What sort of shit?" I ask, pushing back my cap. Suddenly his eyes narrow, making him even more rat like, ugly.

"You ask a lot of questions, Jason." I grin and nod.

"Yeah, yeah I do, sorry. It's just, you know, I don't need a fucking kid right now and Sam? She isn't going to get rid of it and... Well, I was just offloading, talking to a guy, I guess." I shrug, leaning back, underplaying the urgency of the conversation. His eyes go from narrow to understanding.

"Yeah, I know what you mean, bro. Kids fuck things up. No going out drinking cos she can't leave the whiny brat. They're always in the fucking way, crying and shit. Man! They really fuck things up."

"You sound like you know what you're talking about," I say, cautiously. He nods and rubs his face with his hands. "Have you ever had kids?" He nods, then shakes his head.

"The brat wasn't mine, Tina had him before we met. He was at her mother's when we hooked up, that was ok, but then she wanted him to live with her. Fuck man, it was a ball ache. Diapers, bathing, crying, all the fucking time." He drinks another drink, the bottle's nearly empty.

"So, where is he now, babysitter?" I ask, looking around like there might be a baby under the table, Greco laughs.

"He fell down the stairs, if you know what I mean?" He grins, then sits up like he's remembered he's not supposed to talk about it. I remain expressionless, like I've registered nothing from what he's said. Inside my brain, those computers are whirring again, was that enough of an admission for the Code?

"That must have been hard on Tina?" I shrug, like I don't care, and he laughs at my callous attitude.

"Nah, the bitch didn't want a baby, she wanted me. Proved it in a court of law too." He's interrupted in what else he might say by Lumen and Tina's arrival back at the table.

Tina is holding Lumen's hand and Lumen is nodding, like she's agreeing to something. I frown at them and Tina smiles at me, it's a sad smile. I look away, catching a glimpse of Lumen's face as I turn. Her face is puffy, streaked with the marks of tears, like she was the night I lied to her. But her eyes are sharp and bright. She's heard all she needs.

"Gonna get me another beer, Jase?" she asks coyly, putting her head onto her chest and looking up at me.

"You shouldn't be drinking in your condition," I say curtly, Greco laughs.

"Oh, it's only a beer," says Tina, smiling at me. I grin back and give her an obvious look up and down, she blushes,. Greco's so wasted he doesn't even see it.

"I'll buy _you_ a drink, Tina," I say, leaning across and taking her glass, making sure my fingers brush over her skin. She giggles.

"Jase," Lumen says, warningly, sounding sulky, petulant.

"What?"I turn on her. "For fuck's sake, Sam, what is wrong with you? Jesus!" I stand up, the table wobbles. Lumen starts to cry, she's good. "Not the tears again! Don't you have another tune to play for fuck's sake, bitch?" I snarl and she whips to her feet. Her hand snakes out before I can really judge it and she slaps me, hard, across the face. She turns and stalks out of the bar, wobbling on those damned heels. I look at Tina, she shrugs.

"She'll be ok, Jase," she says up at me. "It just takes some adjusting to, having a baby. Maybe you'd better go after her? It's a kinda rough neighbourhood." I sigh theatrically. Place my bottle in front of Greco, who is now lolling back on his chair, his eyes half closed and nod.

As I follow Lumen's exit, Tina calls out.

"Maybe see you again, Jason?" I turn and smile.

"No doubt, Tina, no doubt." She smiles and gives a little wave.

Lumen is around the corner of the bar, she leans against the wall and bites her lip.

"You ok?" I ask, putting out my hand, trying to gauge how she feels. She nods and twines her fingers through mine. I pull her to me and kiss her. Her soft mouth opens to me and I feel that familiar sting of pleasure zipping though me. Her arms come up around my neck, she strokes my cheek and pulls back.

"Did I hurt you?" She frowns and I shake my head.

"Only for a second." I kiss her quickly again on the lips and let her go. "You were very convincing. What did she tell you?" We start to walk.

"I told her I was having a baby, that my parents kicked me out. She told me all about her and Joey, how in love they were, how she couldn't leave him, even for her family, her baby. Fuck, she made them sound like Romeo and Juliet!" I laugh but her mouth is a grim line.

"Did she say anything about the baby?"

"Yeah, she told me it all, it was like she was dying to get it all out, like it had been bottled up inside her and she thought I was the same as her, a kindred spirit." Lumen sounds cold, angry.

"And, did she say he killed the child?" I try not to think of Harrison, if I do I know I'll go back in there and just stab Greco.

"Yes. She told me what happened. Blamed it all on the baby's crying, it drove Greco mad, he couldn't help it, he's sensitive." She breathes through her nose like she's fighting her anger. It must have been hard for her to hear all this and stay calm.

"And she told me that Greco went too far and that she couldn't live without him, he didn't mean to kill the baby and so she lied for him."

We're at the SUV, Lumen leans against it and I can hear her breathing. She looks like a stranger to me, in her outfit and make up. But the most startling thing is the mask of anger, of cold rage on her soft features.

"What did he say to you?" I tell her, keeping the story to the minimum because I know she won't want the details. She's sickened already. I unlock the car and she climbs in.

I start the engine and we drive in silence. Lumen uses a wet wipe from Harrison's stash under the chair to remove the harsh make up. Even though that mask has gone, she still looks cold and wrathful.

I glance at her as the yellow streetlights illuminate her face briefly and then plunge it back into shadow.

"So, we know enough, right?" she asks, her voice flat. I nod. The next time she speaks something has replaced the anger, it is lust and excitement.

"So they're ours, Dexter." I nod again. "Let's use the chainsaw this time." Her voice is quiet but determined.

**So, now you've met Greco and DiMarco do you feel they deserve it? Is it wrong that I'm looking forward to killing them too?:) thanks for all the kind reviews and comments, you are such great people to have on board. Thanks to Chander1200 for the trailer trash bar music and to the birthdayful VB for checking out my punctuation! cx**


	24. Third man

She's quiet until we get home but there's something I need to ask. It's not going to be an easy question either and it feels strange, the boot is on the other foot. I pull into the parking lot and wind down the window a little, listening to the waves crashing on the shore opposite the apartments. I put my head back on the head rest and sigh. I can feel Lumen looking at me.

"Does Tina DiMarco deserve to die?" I just say it, as simply as I can, because I need to hear her answer. She pauses in her regular breathing and I open my eyes and turn my head. She's biting her lip. She nods, it's a quick gesture, like she's afraid to admit to it, own the positive response to my query. "How?" I whisper, "She didn't kill anyone. That's not the Code."

"Was Liddy in the Code?" Lumen sounds quiet, but sharp. She's looking right at me; this is one of those conversations, like sharing parts of your soul.

"Yes, he was. The first rule of the Code is 'don't get caught'. Liddy caused problems in that area. He had those films. Tina DiMarco isn't a threat to me, to us." Lumen closes her eyes now and immediately I feel excluded from her thoughts. I don't like it, I have to bridge that gap, bring her back. I put out my hand and touch her cheek, her eyelids flicker open but she's not looking at me.

"She's a mother, Dexter, she was a mother and she let that man beat her child to death. I can't see how that is anything but deserving. Can you?" That last question hangs between us. Once upon a time, in the land of Dexter the Monster, I would have answered that question by explaining that I didn't have any feelings and so trying to understand maternal instinct, some kind of biologically driven need to protect your kids, was just a fruitless exercise. Miguel tried the same tack when he tried to convince me to kill Ellen Wolf, show me how she'd hurt people, families. It didn't change my mind.

But I'm not that man anymore. Rita, Cody and Astor, Deb have all changed me. I've been warped and refashioned in the fire of the events which have happened to me since I opened up to them. And now there's Lumen, the biggest change of all.

I study her high cheekbones, the finely sculpted lips, the arch of her eyebrows. The moonlight plays silver over them, shadowing her face so that she looks sharper than ever, a human blade. I try to imagine Rita killing Harrison, letting me kill Harrison, and the thought, the images it presents are so abhorrent that I shut my eyes tightly. When I open them again Lumen is looking at me, frowning. I realise she's misinterpreted the expression for disagreement. I shake my head, unable to speak while these new feelings crush my chest. She waits for me, opens the car door.

"We have to be sure they'd do it again." She looks at me and I can see her thinking that she has the wrong man here, didn't I admit last night that I _liked_ killing people? "It's the Code." I say again, but this time it feels weak.

"What if Tina gets pregnant again? Don't you think Greco would do something?" She says it quietly, leaving me alone to make my decision. He'd be an idiot to do it, after going to court last time the judge would have to take that prior accusation into account. But I've met Greco now, he's wily. He won't get caught. I look at Lumen and think about someone hurting Harrison the way they hurt that little boy.

"You're right. They both deserve it, deserve us. Let's do it soon." She nods and steps out of the car into the moonlight. I follow her up the stairs to the apartment.

As I unlock the door she puts her arms about me, snaking them up my chest and then down. I feel her, pressed against my back and my body starts to burn.

All the tension of the night, the adrenaline of the hunt, the fear of being caught, floods out of me as I pull her towards me and kiss her. The door opens behind us and we stumble backwards into the dark of the apartment.

She kicks the door shut with her foot and pushes me back so that I twist and lie on the floor. She lies over me, covering my mouth with hers. She tastes of beer and the ghost of lipstick. She grinds her pelvis against me, my blood is pounding in my ears and I can't breathe. I gulp down air as she pulls back; her face is grim and full of desire. I roll her over, lying between her legs, the jean shorts and my thin jogging pants not hiding the evidence of excitement. She moans and I rock my hips against her.

"When?" she says, panting out the words as she pushes the shirt off my shoulders and sits up to kiss my chest, up to my left nipple where she flicks her tongue and I arch back and let my head rest on the muscles over my shoulder blades. Her slim fingers rub at the right nipple, pinching until my hips are bucking forward of their own accord. I can't think. "When?" she says again, her tone dark.

"The weekend?" I push her back onto the floor and untie the man's shirt where it knots over her navel. Her skin is pale against the black lace bra. The swirls and curls of the material tease me with a glimpse of dark, hard nipples. I bite my lip and trace a finger idly over her scars, following them into the cup of her bra, then pulling the strap from her shoulder and dipping my head to taste her salty skin. She moans my name and pulls my hair, I growl into her flesh.

"Yes, the weekend," she whispers, and takes my other hand and presses it against her unattended breast. The action of control turns me on, more than I expected, and I pinch and tease while she writhes underneath me. I press down with my hips and she moves up towards me.

"Take them off," I tell her, as I sit back and watch her unpeel the tight denim from her hips. She isn't wearing panties and part of me is grateful that I didn't know this before. How would I have ever concentrated? She catches my expression and smiles, her mouth quirking in one corner.

She lies there, open to me. Her shirt splayed out around her like the wings of an angel and her face written over with lust. Her hands come up and tug at the waistband of my trousers, the elastic gives easily and she sits up to pull them down over my hips. I look down, watching her as she takes off my clothes, exposing how hard I am for her. When she sees me like that, raw, uncovered, wanting her, she makes a sound. An inhalation which ends in a groan. It inflames me and I let go of control.

I push her back onto the floor and run my hand between her legs. She cries out and arches her back. I slick my hard cock with her arousal and she looks down at our bodies as I enter her. Her mouth is open, her eyes wide and her breath comes in sharp bursts. She is so tight, so wet and inviting. Once again I have the feeling that I am being possessed by her. It's a powerful reversal of how I've felt fucking other women. Lumen owns me, as much as I own her.

She brings up her hands to my face, holding my cheeks and watching me intently.

"I want to kill Greco. Will you let me do it?" Each word is a thrust upwards of her hips, tipping me all the way in, unravelling any sense of myself I ever had. I nod, unable to speak, my face an expression of the intense feelings running through me, into her. She smiles; it's predatory, wide and white. I teeter on the edge.

She pushes her hand between us and I move so she can reach down. I feel her fingers working over her body as I move inside her. My hand on the small of her back, I sit onto my haunches, so that she is sitting over me. Her fingers stroke and flutter, her breathing becomes ragged, her head falls back and the pony tail bounces as I thrust. I hold her tight with one hand and touch her breasts with the other, nipping and pulling on her nipples more fiercely and she says my name between her teeth, like a curse.

I lean forward, the movement drives me deeper into her and I kiss her neck, telling her that she is all mine, that I love her, she is beautiful. She starts to come. She quivers over me, shuddering under my touch and against my sensitive flesh buried inside her. Her muscles contract and the pressure in my lower stomach builds until there is nothing but the feel of her around me. All that I am centres on the part of me held in that satin grasp. I come hard.

The next morning I drive to work feeling much happier. Happier, that I have got something to look forward to at last and happier, that I get to share it with Lumen. The sun is still shining down even though there's heavy rain forecast for the weekend.

The station's pretty deserted at this time, but I want to get in early so I can use the police database to find out where Greco is staying. It'll be much better to meet him at home when we decide to pay him his final visit. One of the cleaners nods to me as he pushes his mop and bucket into the lift I have just exited.

"It's dead out there, Dex," he grins, as he presses the button to go to the next floor. "All our friends in blue are sleeping in." I smile and nod.

"Just us, Ricky, just us holding the fort." He chuckles in reply as the doors close.

I flick on the lights in the lab, put my bag over the back of the chair and notice that the Mac has stopped the search of the symbols database I started before I left work yesterday. Now on the screen, next to my photograph of the top hat tattoo, is some kind of oriental symbol. A lot more stylised and obscure but it's definitely the same thing, it even has the curve of what I thought was a feather but which now seems to be part of the symbol itself.

I click on the blue link under the symbol and it takes me to a website which shows me three symbols, my hat and feather are in the centre. The top symbol seems to me like two 'R's, one much smaller than the other and floating in the air to the left of the other, bigger 'R'. It looks familiar but, before I can think where I've seen it before, I read the word at the top of the webpage and everything clicks into place. It says 'Vampire'.

The blood flowing away, washed away by water, the decapitation, the crucifixes, surely these are all linked? But where have I seen this symbol before? I print the page and the photo from the second victim's wrist and then sit back in my seat, swinging slightly from side to side as I try to dredge my mind for the other symbol.

I twirl the chair to the files on the metal trolley behind me, selecting a yellow folder from the pile. It's the jacket on the murder in the nightclub. I flick through the pictures, putting them one by one under the bright desk lamp to study the more clearly, something is bothering me.

"Dex, you're in early? Trouble in paradise?" Masuka opens the door and puts his head close to mine. He looks at what I am studying so intently and then swivels his eyes to me.

"See this Vince?" I jab the Mac screen with a finger, he looks, his eyes go wide and he nods. "It's Japanese isn't it? These three symbols make the word..."

"Vampire," he says, falling into the chair beside me which wobbles alarmingly. I didn't even know he could read Japanese.

"Come on Vince, you don't believe in this shit do you? You're a scientist!" I lean past him and grab the printed sheets; he flinches as my hand passes him.

Ignoring his weird mood, I look back to the photos of Takahashi, the nightclub victim. Nothing, I flick to the next picture, nothing, nothing, nothing. On the fourth there is a blur at the joint where the wrist meets the hand. Could this be a tattoo? Vince is still sitting silently, spinning the chair from side to side like he's in a trance. I wake the Mac again and scroll to the pictures I took at the South Beach crime scene. Finding the right shot, I zoom in to the wrist. The blurring gets worse so I sharpen the picture, playing with the slide tool to get it just right. Sure enough, it comes up clear enough for me to see those weird stylised 'R' symbols. I press print and get out of my chair, grabbing the new sheet as it feeds out of the machine.

Deb's at her desk, still wearing her shades and holding a huge, take out, cup of coffee. She's booting up her PC and flicking through a magazine while the system loads, but she's not reading it. Her eyes are crunched up and she keeps rubbing her neck. I slide into the chair beside her desk and she looks up, startled.

"Jesus, brother. Ninja much?" She glares at me and then winces, holding her head.

"What's up?" I ask her, frowning at her obvious discomfort.

"Got a cocksucker of a headache, is what's up," she growls. "Fucker will not go away." I stand up and walk behind her chair. I put my hands on her neck and begin to knead the muscles. Rita always said I was good at this. One of the benefits of having advanced anatomical training is knowing which nerves paralyse and which ones relax when manipulated. Useful in all sorts of ways. Deb's head flops back and I rub my fingers lightly over her forehead.

"Ahhh, god Dexter, that is good. You're a fucking genius, you know that?"

"I do actually, but it's nice to hear it anyway," I say, continuing to smooth over her skin. "Is it the air pressure again?" She nods a little, but then winces again.

"Yeah, the sooner that fucking rain everyone keeps forecasting gets its ass over here, the sooner someone can stop driving burning nails into my head," she says in a low voice. We stay like this for a moment, me rubbing and kneading, her making appreciative noises. I notice Masuka watching us through the window, his mouth open. I don't know whether he's still freaking out about the vampire thing or imagining something dreadful about me and Deb. I look back to Deb, her eyes are closed and she looks more peaceful now.

"I've got something else that might make you feel better too," I tell her, she opens one eye and then closes it again.

"Is this about the headless bastards we keep finding, because LaGuerta's already sent me an ass fucking via email this morning about my complete lack of leads."

"It is, I know what that tattoo means..." I hardly get chance to finish my sentence before she spins her chair around to face me.

"What? What the fuck, Dex? Tell all, now!" she demands, her eyes still slitted though the headache. I spin the chair back and continue the shoulder rub.

"I put that strange top hat symbol into the database last night, it was a long shot, but I thought something might come up. This morning it's matched it to a Japanese symbol." I see Deb's chest rise and fall as her heart starts to beat faster, adrenaline might beat this headache faster than my hands will but it'll be back like a bitch afterwards.

"Ok, Japanese and..."

"And there were two other symbols with it on the webpage, I searched the shots of the first victim and he's got one of the other symbols, tattooed on his wrist." Deb's eyes are wide, but she's not looking at me.

"Gangs? Clans? What the fuck is it?"

"They're both part of the Japanese word for vampire..." I don't get to finish because she focuses on me.

"The blood! The beheading!" She pulls the crucifix from the neck of her shirt. "Oh my god, this is like fucking Twilight 'round here! Any sparkly fuckers been spotted about the place? Do I get to arrest Stephanie fucking Meyer? The bitch needs it!" She laughs a short bark of a laugh. I have no idea what she's talking about and she must see this on my face because she sighs and shakes her head. "Go on, anything else?"

"Well, yes. There's one symbol missing, the word's made up of three symbols and we've found the first two..."

"In the right order?" She's out of the chair, rummaging in her bag for painkillers.

"I don't know." I watch her down the pills, grimace and look about. I pass her the bottle of water which was hidden behind her monitor. She grins and takes it from me. After three long gulps of water she looks at me again.

"There's someone else out there with the last symbol isn't there? And they're the next victim of this vampire slaying fucker. Jesus, you don't think Masuka's ex thinks she's the Slayer do you?" she shakes her head and chuckles; "I wouldn't be fucking surprised would you?" I still have no idea what she's talking about so I shrug. She takes two steps towards me and kisses me quickly on the cheek.

"Bro, you are a genius!" She strides off to LaGuerta's office, checks herself, comes back and takes the printed sheets I left on her desk. She waves them at me and goes back to LaGuerta's door. I hear her knocking and see LaGuerta look up from some paperwork. I go back to my desk.

Vince is looking at the screen; he seems to have pulled himself together a little more now. I'm relieved, it doesn't matter how much I change, I'll never be too keen on emotional scenes.

"So, still think this is Su Lin?" I ask him, sitting down in my chair and looking at the three symbols on the screen again. The third symbol is more complicated than the other two, kind of like a high heeled shoe. The tattoos were all simplified versions of the other characters so maybe this one is too. I look back at Vince. "Do you?"

He looks at me and his face is a sickly yellow. He shakes his head slowly. I frown, what the hell is wrong with him? I'm fed up with his theatrics for the day.

"What? You think these people are real vampires Vince? Man..." I begin, but I am silenced when Vince scoots nearer to me, his arm outstretched. He pushes his watch strap up his wrist and there it is. A black tattoo of a blocky, high heeled shoe.

**Not so many reviews now. Has this gone off the boil? I'm a bit worried. I'm going to finish this season but it'd be good to know if you're still out there. Thanks so much to you guys who always review. Love to VB for being an ace beta! Cx**


	25. Sword Play

I grab Vince's wrist to get a better look at the alarming mark and he winces, so I relax my grip. I watch as his circulation sends my fingermarks pink over his skin. I raise my eyebrows apologetically and he shrugs like it's the least of his worries, I guess he's right.

"Vince? What the fuck? When did you get this? Did you know what it meant?" I look at him and see him clearly for the first time in our years working together. His wide eyes, looming from behind his glasses, the small, full mouth sloping off to the side in a kind of self mocking sneer, the shiny bald head, like an egg waiting to be cracked open.

"Yeah, I did, but I thought it was cool." He looks down at his wrist and I can see now that the image is strangely placed, like he was making room for more ink work. I push my finger into the blank skin.

"What was supposed to go here? Did you change your mind?" He looks at me for a long time before he pulls his arm away from me. He wriggles his watch back down, effectively covering the strange symbol. He looks away across the office and purses his lips. There's a long silence where he seems to decide something. When he turns back to me there's a light in his eyes, a scary, manic look. I roll my chair back.

"Look, Dex, if I tell you this then..." he shakes his head and scuffs his toe on the floor. "Well, let's just say it's personal, right? But I guess you're the best person to understand it so..." I widen my eyes, what the hell is going on? He looks at me again so I nod, encouraging him to go on.

"Right before I met Su Lin, you know, when the Barrel Girl thing was just starting?" I nod and he sighs. "Well, I met this Asian chick and she introduced me to a friend and... well, they asked me if I wanted to have a 369..." I frown and he catches my expression. His eyes go wide for a minute and I can see he's judging me, gauging what he is going to say. "Dex, a 369? No?" He sighs and shakes his head. "I guess you're not as hardcore as you made out, huh?" He sniggers in that lewd way which will, one day, make Deb shoot him in the head. I raise an eyebrow.

"I didn't make anything out, Vince. What's a 369?"

"It's where the girls go down on each other while the guy..." he mimes holding someone's hips and thrusting forward. I grimace, it's not an image I wanted in my head.

"Oh, right, thanks. Go on..." He grins briefly and then nods to himself.

"Right, so, it was all good. Everyone was happy and then this other chick suggested we all got a tattoo done, you know a kind of trophy, like those guys in Nam?" I briefly wonder whether it's worth pointing out to him that having a three-way and fighting in the jungles of Vietnam bear little resemblance to each other but he doesn't even notice the inappropriateness of his analogy.

"So, this other girl, she's a tattooist and she picks these Japanese symbols, tells us they mean something cool and I go first..." He's about to continue but then I stop him.

"What? Something cool? Vince, when did you find out what it meant?" I shake my head and he gets defensive. For a minute I think he's going to walk right out of the lab. This is why Harry taught Deb to be a cop. I'm not good with people, unless they're plastic wrapped.

"Well, of course I fucking asked, Dex! What do you think I am? A moron?" He doesn't wait for a reply, which is a relief. But then his next sentence has me rolling my eyes and sighing again. "She wouldn't tell me, it's kanji, you know, the Chinese symbols form? They were adopted by the Japanese. Anyway, we all picked one of these three symbols and she told me mine meant 'warrior'." He shakes his head and I can see he's embarrassed by the story; Vince likes to be the clever one.

"Don't get mad, but you let this girl draw something on your skin and you didn't even know what it meant?"I can't keep the incredulity out of my voice and, for the first time, Vince looks like he might cry. I will him to stay dry, I can't do tears. He rubs his face with his hand, moving his glasses up onto his forehead.

"I know, but, well, I just didn't want to seem like an idiot. These girls were heavily into culture, you know? I think they only picked me because I was Asian, you know, a brother." I don't point out that the term is usually reserved for black Americans.

"So, you didn't ask anymore because you were embarrassed?" He looks up, his eyes are full of water but they don't spill. Atta boy Vince.

"When I got back home I checked it out. I found what you found." He nods to the screen which has now gone back to my blood splatter screen saver. I stare at the red against the white and it soothes me.

"Did these girls get the tattoo done?" He shrugs.

"I got a little queasy when the tattoo was done, I went home. They said they'd call," he sneers and shakes his head again.

"I'm guessing they didn't?" he pulls down his glasses and looks at me. "Ok, you felt queasy? Vince, you have that huge tattoo of the dragon lady! A little thing like that made you feel sick?" He taps his foot on the floor impatiently and looks at me in a pointed way. Whatever the hint is, I don't get it.

"Well, I may have partaken of something to make the evening a little more... enjoyable." He says finally when I don't take the hint. I frown, trying to imagine why anyone would need drugs when they were doing what Vince claimed to have been doing that night. Nope, can't see it. I raise my brows and nod slowly. "Look, don't fucking judge me, Dex! Everyone does dark shit, even you!" He has a point.

"So, you never saw these girls again and you don't know if they got the tattoo. Do you know their names?"

"Well, the one I met called herself Sunako, but I don't think that's her real name." His mouth is a thin line, he knows the next question.

"The other girl?" He shakes his head.

"She never said, I thought it just wasn't cool to ask, you know?" He looks at me, as if he expects me to understand how it can be uncool to ask the name of the woman with whom you are having sex. People astonish me.

"You know you're going to have to tell Deb all this, don't you?" His head goes down onto his chest and he nods, it's a small, defeated gesture.

The door flings open. Deb smacks her palm off the top of her closed fist. She seems to be over her headache but I see her eyes flick to Masuka, then back to me and she winces slightly. She does, however, catch something on the inside of Masuka's wrist, barely hidden by his watch strap and she cocks her head.

"What's going on in here? I came in to tell you that, from out there," she points out of the window to where Quinn and Angel are standing and staring at us, Quinn waves, "it looks like you two are holding hands." She grins malevolently. Vince looks up, his spirit is broken.

"Fuck you, Morgan," he says, but it's a dead statement, it has none of his usual fire.

"Holy mother of fucking fuck! You have the third tattoo don't you? Jesus! Fuck me sideways!" She grabs his wrist, it's remarkably similar to my own reaction, maybe Deb and I are alike after all? "You, come with me, now. You're gonna have to make a statement." She doesn't let go of Vince's wrist and he stands up reluctantly. I watch Deb drag him away to the incident room, waving for Quinn and Angel to follow her. Angel looks over at me quizzically. I get up and go after them.

As I cross the floor my cell phone buzzes in my pocket, it's Lumen.

"Hey you!" Just the thought that she's calling me is like a light in this dark tunnel.

"Hi, Dex, is this a bad time?"

"No, just busy is all. I can talk for a minute. What's up?"

"Nothing, I just wondered if Cody and Astor would like to see the circus. And Harrison of course, if he's not too small? Someone here got tickets for her nephews and nieces and they can't go. What do you think? It's tonight." I look over at the glass cube of the incident room. Masuka is sitting on the desk; Angel is writing notes and glancing up, his face a picture of horror. Quinn is smirking and hiding his expression when Deb looks over at him. Deb looks dumbstruck.

"Yeah, the circus might be a break from what's going on here today. Great. What time shall we pick you up?"

"Oh, seven? The show starts at seven thirty." I can hear the smile in her voice, it makes me smile too.

"Ok, see you at seven. I'd better go."

"Ok, see you later. Oh, and Dexter?" I frown, what? Her tone is suddenly serious.

"Yeah?" I know I sound tense.

"I love you." She breathes the words, the sound goes right through me. Suddenly I am grinning like a madman.

"I love you too, babe," I say, astonishing myself with the term of endearment. Lumen giggles and I laugh too.

The afternoon is a flurry of questions, recriminations, regret and worry. Deb gets the name of the club where Masuka met these two girls and he tries to remember the location of the place where he got the tattoo. It seems this girl wasn't working at a regular tattoo parlour and he had the ink done in her home, but he doesn't know where that is.

"How can you not fucking know, Vince? You were driven there, right?" Deb shakes her head at me. I shouldn't even be there, there's no blood and I'm not a cop. But Vince wants me to stay and Deb suggests I take his blood and check him out for anything he might have caught from this mysterious girl's needle.

"I was occupied!" he protests, standing up and waving his arms before Deb pushes him right back into his seat. She pulls a face and makes a noise and it's clearly her expression when she wants to say 'what the fuck?' but knows she's used that phrase about a million times today already. I appreciate her restraint. "The other girl was kissing me and... stuff." He tails off looking at Angel and Quinn for moral support, expecting them, as men, to defend him. Angel quirks his mouth and I can see him biting the inside of his cheek. Quinn looks blankly back at Vince, not about to put his own ass on the line with Deb to save Vince's face. Vince finally looks to me; I lean back against the table, hands in my pockets and nod in a noncommittal way.

"Jesus on a fucking jet ski!" Deb spins away from Vince and back to the incident board where she's already pointed out that we have a 'big, stinking pile of crap' on the current suspects. Vince has described them as having that 'cute Asian girl bob' and wearing 'cool Lolita outfits'. Deb Googles the term and flashes up a picture of a young girl wearing a frankly alarming ensemble which seems to be designed to tap into the schoolgirl fantasy. She can't be much older than Astor and I find this particularly disturbing. Short, frilly skirt flared out with petticoats, long socks tied in a bow over the knee, jacket with a nipped in waist and pushed up breasts. Quinn whistles and Deb glares at him. She looks at Masuka and I see her jaw clench.

"Is it any fucking wonder you guys end up in the shit when this, this," she stabs a finger at the screen, "is the sort of shit that turns you on?" She sends a fierce look at each of us in turn. I step back, pulling my hands out of my pockets and holding them up in surrender.

"Where were you when you met them? Maybe the barman or the security guys will remember them?" Quinn tries to salvage the afternoon from becoming Deb's crusade against men and our evil ways. Masuka shakes his head, like he's trying to remember.

"I was at the bar when I met the first chick, I think. Yes, yes I was, and then her friend came over and we sat in the corner, by the VIP lounge." Quinn notes it down.

"What is this club, Vince? Is it somewhere you've taken us before?" Vince is legendary on our floor as the organiser of staff social occasions, with varying degrees of success. He shakes his head and brays that alarming laugh again.

"No, no Dex, I wouldn't take you guys there. It's strictly Asians only. You guys wouldn't get past the door." I nod and wonder why he'd want to go someplace like that; he never seems to care much about his Asian heritage, unless it suits him.

"Right, so, let's recap..." Angel begins, pulling us back to the investigation like a good sergeant.

"Yeah, that's easy, we have fuck all _on_ fuck all. We don't know who these chicks are, where they live or what the fuck they're doing." Deb shakes her head and clicks off the computer screen. Angel looks at her for a moment, eyebrows raised. Deb's the first one to back down.

"Vince, could you describe these girls' height and weight to Dex? Maybe this will help us narrow them down for our suspects for the beheading?" He looks at me and I nod. It's a long shot, but it's something to be going on with, I guess. "Did they have any other ink, Vince?"

Masuka frowns and I can almost see the cogs working. He twists his mouth and then shakes his head. Angel sighs.

"Ok, Morgan, Quinn, get yourselves to this club, see if you can talk to the management, see any camera footage. Even the line outside might tell us something about these ladies. Vince, I'm giving you protective detail until this is sorted out, ok?" Vince looks like he might cry again, Angel turns to me quickly.

"Dexter, go through everything you got back from the crime scenes. I want anything at all you find which isn't our victims' checked out, Ok?" I give a salute and he smiles briefly. As we all file out of the glass box, I have a thought.

"If this was these girls, or one of them, it would make sense as to why the first murder happened in the ladies' restroom at the nightclub." Angel stops and pats me on the shoulder.

"You're right, socio, that's good thinking. Do you think one girl did both killings or are they sharing?" I frown, I hadn't thought of that. I need to look at angles, trajectory of blood and tissue. I'll be swinging a sword at a dummy for a few hours this afternoon, I can think of things that are less fun.

"Sharing? Jesus, two serial killers out there, working together?" Quinn looks back at us and I shake my head like it's the worst idea I've ever heard.

"Maybe they're partners, you know, sexually?"Angel says looking at me, and then Quinn. "Maybe they hate men?"

"From what Vince said, they can't hate us so much!" Quinn sniggers and Angel laughs too, even I crack a smile just because this is so stressful, a threat to one of us.

"Can you cocksuckers get your minds out of the sewer for a second and concentrate on the fucking case?" Deb says over her shoulder as she grabs her jacket and her gun from the back of her chair. "Quinn, come on." Quinn raises his eyebrows to us as he follows her meekly to the elevator. Angel waves and I salute again.

"Good luck," mouths Angel, and Quinn laughs, we see Deb grab his arm and the elevator doors close.

The next two hours involve me in a white 'condom' suit and goggles slashing at a white plastic dummy with a variety of Japanese swords. First I try the katana, a long sword and single edged, traditionally used by the samurai. This leaves a satisfying streak of blood as it follows through the dummy's neck but this isn't the splatter pattern found at either scene. Still, I enjoy beheading the dummy again, just to be sure.

Then I replace the head, filling the neck cavity with another bag of the corn syrup and dye gloop I use to simulate blood. I'm proud of my own mixture; it has just the right consistency and drip time as the real thing. I did a lot of research to get it just right.

I pick up the tanto, a small, slashing dagger, barely long enough to sever a head and give it a try. The blade feels smooth in my hand, little air resistance and I'm amazed at the original craftsmanship that designed this blade. Even though this is a modern copy, the originals must have been wonderful to use. It doesn't really match the job, but it's so neat and sharp in my hand I muse about where I could buy one for my own collection. I consider stabbing the dummy in the chest, just to feel the down stroke with this beautiful weapon but I'm supposed to be working, not playing.

The next weapon I chose is a wakizashi, a shorter, double edged sword. It gives me the leverage to really bring some force down on the neck. The slice is clean even using little force, the short blade propelling itself through the 'flesh' of the dummy. I stand for a moment, breathing heavily, before I check the splatter on the wall. Yes, this is the one.

As I put it down on the table I consider what a good choice this is for a female killer. Maybe I should get one for Lumen? I smile inside the white hood.

"Anything?" It's Deb, grinning as she takes in my outfit and the mess I've made. I nod and pass her a sheet splattered with red.

"This one," I point the wakizashi at the paper. She looks up at me and nods.

"So, you finished?" I shake my head.

"No, still got to work out the height of the killer, maybe their frame too?" I stand back and look Deb up and down. "You're too tall. Who else have we got?" She frowns, thinking.

"We've got a temp on the desk downstairs. She's Asian, small, what about her?" I nod and she goes back out of the room returning moments later with a striking looking woman with purple streaks in her spiky blue black hair and her eyebrows pierced. As she comes towards me, I notice that she is wearing bright yellow socks with fluorescent pink shoes. It's disturbing underneath her boring blue skirt and blouse. She looks down at the shoes and then back at me.

"I'm behind a desk, no one sees them." I grin and pass her the short sword. She switches it from one hand to the other, now she's grinning too. "Where is this fucker you want beheading? Point me at him," she says menacingly. Deb's eyebrows raise in alarm and I laugh and point to the dummy.

Seven swings, seven more dummy heads, seven blood bags and we have our killer's height and weight, or thereabouts.

"Thank you..." I say, realising I don't know her name.

"Su Lin," she says, shaking my hand, hers is covered in red and mine is a latex glove.

Thanks guys for your continued support with this. It can be very lonely when you feel like no one is out there and it makes my day to get your comments. Love to VB for being a demon beta and to Staceuo for saying the nicest things.


	26. Su Lin

As Su Lin shakes my hand I look over at Deb, her eyes are wide and her mouth is open.

"Not _the_ Su Lin?" I ask, smiling because I don't want to freak her out. She frowns and cocks her head like she doesn't get it. "Did you date Masuka?" She purses her lips tightly.

"Yeah, the little bastard. Why? Do you know him?" She looks confused. I look at Deb again who is shaking her head.

"Well, yeah, we know him. He works with us." Deb's voice sounds like she doesn't know whether to laugh or slap the girl in cuffs and arrest her. It's Su Lin's turn to get wide eyes now.

"He does? He never told me he... hmm." She looks at me and the blood splatter around the room. "What does he do here exactly? Why haven't I seen him coming in to the building?"

"He's forensics, I work with him. I don't know why you've not seen him, he's been here all week." We're all still looking at each other when Su Lin finally shakes herself; it's the same gesture I've seen cats do when they get wet. She straightens her shoulders, narrows her eyes and then looks down at her bloody hands.

"Better go and clean up! I think I might scare people downstairs if I don't at least wash my hands!" She waggles her red fingers by the side of her face, like very alarming jazz hands. I chuckle. She makes for the door and Deb puts her hand on her arm.

"Hey, can I just ask you some questions?" Su Lin looks right at Deb, she doesn't seem the type to bullshit.

"Sure," she says, nodding and waving for Deb to go out first. As she leaves she winks back at me.

"See you around, handsome." For some reason I am smiling. The phone buzzes in my pocket and I jump guiltily.

"Lumen, hi," my voice sounds a little too upbeat but Lumen doesn't seem to notice.

"Hi, look, I'm sorry but I can't do the circus tonight. Had you told the kids? I'm so sorry." I frown, she sounds upset.

"Are you ok? Is something wrong? I haven't mentioned anything to the kids."

"Ok, that's good. Nothing's wrong with me it's just... do you remember when I told you about Mrs Chester's daughter? Mary? She didn't show up for work today, I called her apartment and something's happened." A tremor goes through me, like a premonition.

"What happened?" I hear her sigh; the noise ends in a half sob. "Lumen?"

"She was attacked, by a man, she was walking home from the cinema and some guy grabbed her from a car." Now I know the sound in her voice, it's the one I heard when I kept her in that place for days, trying to win her trust like some wild animal, not knowing whether I should save her life or save myself.

"Is she ok? Did he...?" I don't say the word and I don't need to, Lumen makes a little noise which signals that yes, Mary Chester was raped. "Do you need me to come over?"

"No, maybe later I can come to your apartment? I think she needs to see people she's familiar with right now."

"Sure, of course. Are you going to be ok?" There is a long silence and I hear her sniff, imagine her wiping her eyes.

"Yeah, I'll be ok. I just feel so angry, Dexter, so angry." She sounds tired too and all I want to do is put my arms around her and make her ok but I know it's not that easy. I have no idea what to say.

"Come over tonight, if you still want to, when you've seen Mary. We can talk then. I love you." I tell her for the second time today.

"Thanks, I love you too." She hangs up and I look at the red splatter on the white walls and think about what Harry said about some people not deserving to live.

Deb grabs me as I head back to my lab, arms full of splatter sheets and thinking of coffee.

"Yo, Dexter, what the fuck?" I look at her, my mind still with Lumen and her friend. I frown and Deb sighs and rolls her eyes. "Su Lin? Working downstairs all this time? What the fuck?" She repeats with emphasis, I nod.

"Yeah, what the fuck. Can we get coffee?" She looks at me like I'm an alien but she nods anyway. Once we're in the kitchen area and I have the jug in my hand I feel better. I pour, asking Deb if she wants one by waving the plastic cup, she nods. "How long has she been there? Did Masuka know?"

"She's been there two weeks and she hasn't seen him once. How does that happen in a police station? Thanks." She takes the coffee from me and sips, looking at me over the rim.

"I liked her," I say simply, Deb snorts.

"Yeah, no shit. And she liked you too, asked me about a million questions about you on the way to my desk. Said she liked a man who could handle a blade." She looks at me, doing nothing to hide an expression which says that she thinks that any woman finding me attractive must be retarded. Thanks Deb.

"Thanks, Deb," she grins in response. "So, is it a coincidence that she's working here? Do you think she's connected to the case?" Deb shakes her head and puts her coffee on the counter, looking in the drawers for sugar.

"I don't know. I didn't get any sort of vibe off her and she seemed genuinely amazed that Vince worked here. I wonder what he told her did for a job?" I'm not sure I want to know, Masuka's home life is an enigma to me and something inside tells me it's better that way.

The man in question is gone when I get back to the lab. There's no note to tell me his whereabouts and for a second I find myself actually wondering where he is. What's happening to me? But then I realise that I know how it feels to be hunted, toyed with. If it's not been the FBI then it's been Lila, Miguel, Trinity. That knot of cold appears again in my stomach when I think of him. The image of his handiwork comes unbidden into my head. I stand in my lab and feel that cold again, that emptiness. I wish I had something to remind me of Lumen now, something I could use to conjure the life back, banish this void that Trinity embedded in my soul. I put my hands over my face and inhale, trying to steady my breathing, make this cold go away. Even through the soap of my shower, the latex of the gloves I have been wearing, there is the ghost of Lumen on my skin. Am I imagining this? It doesn't matter, it saves me from the abyss, and I breathe in deeply, willing her light to drown this cold space in radiance.

I don't know how long I stand like this, invoking Lumen to exorcise my demons, but when I look up from my hands the clock on the lab wall tells me it's time to go home. Colleen will be dropping the kids back in a couple of hours and I need to be there to meet them.

Angel waves as he sees me press the button for the elevator. I hold the door for him and he jogs to the door.

"Thank you, amigo," he smiles to me and tips his hat slightly. I look at him and wonder for a moment what I would look like in a hat. I shake my head at the crazy image and he frowns. "Is something wrong, Dexter?" I'm about to say no, fall back into the old Dexter, who says nothing when I check myself. Angel has friends in the Sex Crimes Division and he might be able to help.

"One of Lumen's friends got attacked last night, on the way back from the cinema down by University Park. I was just thinking about what a dangerous world we live in. We solve one crime, someone commits another." Angel purses his lips and nods.

"Si, it is dangerous, but you and I, we help to catch the criminals, we make it safer, Dex. Do you want me to ask around and find out who is on this case?" I nod.

"That'd be great Angel, thank you."

We leave the station together and Angel pats me on the back as he makes for his car.

"Look after your girl when you see her tonight. She'll need to know she has a strong man to protect her, she's a fragile one." He nods like he's imparting some timeless knowledge. I smile and unlock the SUV, he has no idea how wrong he is. Lumen doesn't need a man, she needs a monster. Luckily she has one.

She comes over when the kids are just going to bed. I'm on the balcony with a beer and a bag of chips waiting for Astor to finish brushing her teeth.

"Hi," I look up from staring at the pool, watching the smooth ripples catch the light and listening to the slosh and wash echo of the ocean. Her face is closed down, nothing shows on the surface but her body language is tense, tight. She smiles but it doesn't travel to her eyes.

"Hi, are the kids in bed?" She glances to the door and I can see she needs to check if we're overheard before she tells me anything. Astor opens the door, looking younger than her years with her shiny, just scrubbed face despite the black band t shirt she now wears for bed.

"Oh, hi Lumen," her smile is genuine when she sees I'm not alone. Lumen smiles and puts out her hand, touches Astor's arm. "Ok, 'night then Dexter, 'night." She kisses me briefly on the cheek and then goes to kiss Lumen. At the last moment she throws her arms around her, maybe it's some female intuition, she knows what Lumen needs right now, more than I do. I see Lumen's fingers tighten on Astor's back and they stand there for a moment, just holding on to each other. Then Lumen lets go and Astor smiles and goes back to the apartment without saying a word.

Lumen looks at my beer, it's a new bottle and I just pass it right to her. She smiles and takes it from my hand, swings it to her lips and drinks with deep swallows. She leans next to me on the metal rail. For a few minutes neither of us speak, I am waiting for her, unsure what to say.

"Mary'll be ok," her voice is quiet, almost a whisper. I look at her and see the tears now, the tears Astor must have felt as she hugged Lumen. I put out my hand touch her shoulder; stroke her hair from her face. She turns to me and she smiles. "Seeing her so broken made me realise how much you've helped me heal. Thank you." She leans towards me and her lips brush mine. She passes me the beer.

"What happened?" I'm thinking like a guy from Forensics but I can't help it.

"She was walking back from the cinema, some guy stopped by the kerb behind her. She thought he was going to the store but then he put his arms around her throat and dragged her to an alley. She couldn't scream, he nearly choked her. Her bruises..." She touches her throat, stroking the skin where the skin has healed but where I remember the purple marks, the destruction, left by Jordan Chase and his friends.

"Did she get a glimpse of him?" I don't want to pry but, when you've worked with the police for as long as I have, these questions become second nature. Not to mention my hobby, where not getting seen is paramount. She shakes her head, screwing her eyes up against the images in her head.

"No, he... pushed her face down in the alley," I nod and look away, understanding how this is like daggers through her. There is silence again.

"His car?" I'm almost afraid to ask, not wanting to push this any further than she can stand. She shrugs.

"I didn't ask her, I just tried to help. Fuck!" She snatches the bottle and holds it over her head, her angle and muscle tension screaming. She wants to throw the bottle, listen to it smash, break something. Then she sighs, a sound of pain and grief and she drops her arm.

"Can I hold you?" I ask her, not wanting to make a move which will send her to that dark place. She nods, still staring out to the ocean. I stand behind her, wrapping my arms about her and holding her tightly. She leans back against me.

The ocean flows silver and black in the moonlight. Palms swish in the light breeze coming from over the water. In the city, cars speed along, salsa music blares from the cars of the Cuban boys. Miami carries on her struggle and swing without any recognition for the darkness that happens under her neon lights, her glorious sunshine.

"Sonja's going to baby sit the kids on Saturday night, so we can deal with Greco and DiMarco." I say this into her hair, hoping to lighten her mood by planning a murder. Her shoulders drop, I feel her relax.

"I need this, Dex. I really need to do this." I nod, I know what she means. This business with the beheadings, Masuka in the firing line and now Mary Chester, have just combined to build the tension I know will only dissipate when I hear our victims breathe their last.

"Come to bed," I say, kissing the top of her head. She nods and turns in my arms. She kisses me.

"Will you just hold me, Dexter?" Her voice sounds weary. I lead her back to the apartment.

She seems to have dealt with the immediate anger and shock by the time we wake up in the morning. She's already in the kitchen slicing cheese and piling plates with crusty bread and cold meat. I raise my eyebrows at Cody who is looking at his plate, a thinly veiled look of concern on his face.

"German breakfast," he points at the plate and pulls an expression of fear. I nod and steal some ham from his plate, wobbling it in my fingers like it's alive as I lower it to my mouth. Lumen looks up and laughs, Astor giggles at Cody's disgusted face.

"Mmm, yummy. Eat up Cody," I laugh and he picks up some cheese, eyeing it suspiciously.

"I was reading a book about a serial killer that ate his victims," Astor says chirpily and Lumen and I exchange a glance before we look back to where this teenage girl is innocently eating her ham and cheese, eyeliner smudged inexpertly around her eyes.

"Really? Gross," I wrinkle my nose and layer my cheese on my bread and raise my eyebrows.

"Yeah, I know, but I thought it was a great way to get rid of the bodies," Astor nods to herself and chews her breakfast thoughtfully.

"Not sure I could eat a whole one," I laugh, sipping the coffee that Lumen hands to me, she is grinning now.

"I think you'd have to save some and eat them over a week," Lumen says, slicing her ham with relish. Cody looks green.

"Yeah, that'd work," Astor nods like she's really considering it.

"That's awful," Cody drinks a long draught of OJ to try to squash his nausea.

"Saves on grocery bills," I suggest, feeding Harrison a thin sliver of cheese, he gestures for the ham, making a noise to show me what he wants. I pass him a slice, looking at Lumen to see what she thinks of the carnivorous baby. She is smiling, Harrison chews with his hard gums, teeth poking though like tiny needles.

"Right, gotta go," I shovel the rest of my ham and cheese on to the bread and grab my bag from the back of the chair. "Anyone need a ride? Kids, how are you getting to Sonja's?" I realise I haven't arranged anything but Astor shakes her head.

"Nope, Sonja's picking us up, we're going swimming. Lumen, when do you start work? Do you want to come with us?" Lumen looks at Astor and I know she's thinking of the scars which crisscross her body and might invite questions. She bites her lip.

"You know, I will. I start around lunch today so I have time to come with you, thanks for asking Astor. I'll have to get my swimsuit, though." Astor looks at me and then at Lumen.

"I have Mom's, if you want to borrow it." Her voice is quiet. I feel my eyes widen. "It was one of the things I kept from the house. It was new and she really liked it. I thought I'd wear it when I got older. Is that weird?" Lumen shakes her head.

"When my grandmother died I kept her knitting. I can't knit but I wanted to finish what she started one day."

"Did you?" I look at Lumen and she laughs.

"No, I still can't knit. But I will one day." I laugh and kiss her on the cheek.

"You're all weird, serial killers, knitting, swimsuits..." I shake my head and ruffle Cody's hair. "We're the only sane ones left, boys." I kiss Harrison and make for the door.

I'm at my desk when Angel comes in with donuts.

"Thanks, I thought this was my job?" I grin as I take the last jelly one. He puts a yellow folder on my desk. "What's that?"

"Mary Chester's statement, thought you might want to see it, socio," he claps me on the shoulder.

"Anything useful?" He purses his lip and shrugs one shoulder. "Nothing SCD can see, but I thought you'd want to look for yourself." I nod my thanks and he leaves, waving the donuts under Vince's nose and frowning as Masuka chooses two from the box.

I flick through the statement, just what Lumen said, no surprises there, nothing to help me find anything. Then I turn to the evidence taken at the scene. There's the usual dirt and gravel to be expected in a downtown alleyway but then something catches my eye. Four fibres from a sticky patch of spilled soda right by where Mary Chester's attacker made her kneel down. The fibres are from a fabric you don't find very often, it's not been used in general manufacture for years. I type the chemical formula of the fabric into the department database.

The screen scrolls and then gives me a list of uses for this material. A couple of companies who make children's' crib mattresses use it but they're mainly out east. Ice skating boots and under vests for skiers but nothing that you'd expect out here in the Miami sun. I turn away from the Mac and swing around in my chair, something is tapping at my brain and I don't know what it is. Quinn opens the door and smirks when he sees me swinging.

"Hey, Morgan, Deb wants to know the name of that sword again? What's that?" He's looking at the screen, his face a big grin.

"It's a fabric fibre from a crime scene, why?"

"Oh, I used to have a '55 Ford Zephyr, back in the day, loved her, she was a beauty. Bitch to get fixed up though; they don't make the seats outta that stuff anymore, too expensive. I trawled all over looking for a way to repair the back seat. Good times." He sighs, oblivious to the look of realisation on my face.

"Can you show me a picture of your car?" I ask and he nods, surprised and leans over me to type the name into the search engine. After a second or two the screen is flooded with retro cars, sleek finned and shiny chrome. I recognise the style; Peter from Lumen's apartment building has one just like it.

**Thanks for being so patient with me, life got complicated recently with work and this took a little longer than I'd planned. Thanks so much for making this the most reviewed story in the Dexter archive. And thanks to Verityburns for the Hello Kitty sunglasses and being a great friend and a whizz beta.**


	27. Coffee and clues

Deb shouts for Quinn to hurry up. They're going to interview the families of the two victims and she wants to get out before the start of the weekend traffic gets even worse. I scribble the name of the murder weapon on a piece of paper and he nods his thanks and follows Deb out to the elevator. I am left looking at the 1955 Ford Zephyr.

I never liked Pete but I put it down to mixed up feelings. How he acted around Lumen had me on edge but I couldn't be sure exactly why he gave me the jitters. I guess this is how Doakes must have felt about me, how he couldn't quite out his finger on what was wrong but that he knew there was something off about me. He was right. And now, it seems so am I.

I bring up a new tab and type his name into the criminal database. Nothing. Not even a parking ticket. I stare at the screen, willing it to tell me something. All it shows me is Pete's driver's license and there he is, smiling like one of the Beach Boys. The door opens and it's Masuka, licking the remnants of his donut off his fingers.

"What did he do? Break the 24 hour promise?" Grins Vince as he sits down beside me and gestures with a sugary finger at the screen. I frown, what is he talking about? "Courier dude, did he not deliver on time?" He points with a sticky finger at the screen and for a moment he's still lost me but then I realise, Pete is a courier. Lumen said it to me when she said about how she found out about Daniels. I smile and nod.

"No, just wondering where I'd seen him before but, yeah, that's it. Courier dude. Has he delivered to this floor?" Vince pauses and then shakes his head.

"Nope, but Janice down in reception might know him?" Doesn't he know that Janice is off sick? That Su Lin is the new receptionist? I'm not about to tell him. I'm about to move the conversation along but then I realise this isn't what friends do.

"Vince, do you know we have a temp receptionist?" He looks at me; I can see him wondering why on earth I'm telling him this. Suddenly I wonder too. Keep out Dexter, mind your own business. He cocks his head and it's a question. Fuck. "It's er... Su Lin." I tell him, keeping it short because I don't know how else to tell him this. His eyes go wide and, for a moment, it looks like he might just run out of the office. When he answers, his voice is a whisper.

"Su Lin? Like, as in, my Su Lin?" I frown, not sure if that's technically correct but then I nod. Vince shakes his head slowly, like he's struggling to take it all in.

"I thought that was maybe why you'd been avoiding reception?" He looks at me sharply, as though he's just seen me for who I am. Not the mild mannered blood guy but someone who notices things.

"Uh, right. Well, I've not been coming in through reception because I didn't want to..."

"Attract attention? Have a clear routine?" I offer and he nods, relieved that I get it. "Su Lin... downstairs. Has anyone spoken to her?" I nod and he goes visibly paler.

"Me, Deb. She interviewed her, I think. Look, she's ok. Deb definitely thinks this isn't about her or she'd never let her carry on working, you can't have the suspect in a murder enquiry working the desk of the police station!" He blows out a long breath and nods but I can see he doesn't believe me.

"I think I'm going to talk to LaGuerta, take a personal day," he says, looking though the blinds with narrowed eyes. I nod and he pats me on the shoulder. "Thanks for telling me, Dex. You're a good friend."

When he's gone I realise that maybe I need to talk to Su Lin. She might have seen Pete while he's been working and maybe she can tell me something about him, something more than he drives the car of a rape suspect. I need more on him than just my confused feelings; my serial killer sense is mixed up by possessive boyfriend. It was so much easier to discern the truth when life was neatly compartmentalised.

I take the elevator downstairs and arrive in reception to hear Su Lin explaining to a group of scantily clad women that this isn't somewhere they can drink their coffees while they wait for their friends to be released by Vice.

"Look, honey, it's glorious sunshine out there and your white ass could do with a tan so why don't you just take the girls and move it outside?" She's laughing, it's not aggressive and the group of women seem to respond, moving towards the door and joking around. Su Lin laughs when one of them suggests that she join them. "No, I've got to make sure that the good citizens of Miami can keep in touch with the boys in blue," she tells them as she goes back behind her desk, the lurid socks and shoes hidden again by the circular desk.

I walk over and lean on the counter. Su Lin looks up, about to ask me if she can help. Her expression goes from politely helpful to a wide grin when she sees me. Two elderly women come up beside me and I wave to Su Lin to show her she should serve them first. I step back and listen to her direct them smoothly to the right department, handing them visitor passes and then telephoning the floor in question so they know who to expect.

"So, Dexter, what can I do for you? More stabbing?" She mimes wielding a knife and laughs. I grin.

"No, no more stabbing today. I just wondered if we could talk?" She raises her eyebrows but nods.

"Sure, I have a break due. Want to go for coffee?" I glance outside, she was right; it is bright sunshine out there. It looks inviting, I nod and she grins. Grabbing her bag from the back of the chair she stabs the phone with her long black lacquered nails. "Brad? I'm on a break, cover for twenty minutes?" She looks at me and grins again. "Make it thirty minutes? You're a doll."

A couple of minutes later a big black guy in a security guard suit wanders out from the back. Su Lin slaps him on the back as he sits in her chair.

"Let's go, handsome," she links my arm and leads me outside.

She grabs a seat at the wooden bench of the picnic table and I go to get the coffees. She shields her eyes in the sun and looks up at me as I pass her the cup.

"Thanks, so, is this more about Masuka?" She rummages in her bag, finally pulling out a pair of black Hello Kitty sunglasses which she puts on, flicking back the longer strands of hair which fall over her ears. The spiky haircut, the purple streaks and the way the sunglasses hide her piercings make her look about twelve years old, until she grins and suddenly there is sexuality, a dark worldliness about her. She takes off her bag and unbuttons her blouse, stripping it away to reveal a flimsy black vest, something Lila would have worn. Her muscles are tanned and lean. She has the physique of a fighter.

"No, not Vince," I realise she hasn't used his first name and, for a second I wonder if she ever used it? Were they in bed, having sex and she was calling out 'Masuka'? I shake my head to clear it, what am I thinking? She leans further over the table and licks her lips. I notice she's put fresh lipstick on while I was getting coffee, it's red and shiny.

"Ok, not Masuka. Interesting, come on, what?"

"Do you know a courier guy called Pete?" I say, realising this sounds incredibly dumb. Her eyebrows raise a little and I see the tiny black balls of her piercing peep over the rim of the glasses. She nods.

"Yeah," she draws the word out so it's got about five syllables. Then she shuts her mouth with an almost audible snap. She knows something.

"And? What can you tell me about him? It's just, he knows a friend of mine and well, and I'm feeling a bit possessive." I add, realising I need a cover for my enquiries. Su Lin tips her head to the side and smiles.

"Lucky friend, with you looking after her and him interested in her, it is a her, right?" I nod and she giggles.

"So, you think he's a nice guy?" I ask, leaning forward, elbows on the table trying to judge the reaction of this person not tainted by complicated feelings. She nods, then shakes her head, then she shrugs.

"Yeah, he's pretty, but that's not what you asked me is it?" I shake my head and she frowns. "Is he a nice guy?" She looks up at the sky and bites her lip, like she's feeling inside for the answer. Finally she looks back at me. I can't see her eyes behind the dark shades of the glasses and I have the disconcerting feeling that I am being watched by Su Lin and Hello Kitty.

"No, you know, I don't think he is. Do you know Janice? The girl I replaced?" I nod, Janice always smiled in the morning and I used to offer her a donut. "Yeah, well, she's been off sick because her doctor said she was in danger of having a breakdown. And that was partly due to Pete, the handsome courier."

"What? What did he do?" The alarm bells are ringing in my head and I want to shout at her to hurry up and tell me, but she's thinking.

"They dated for a while, well, not really dated but they went to the movies, rented movies out, that kind of thing. Then he got really attached to her and Janice didn't want a relationship. I don't know much else but I know he got weird, stalked her I suppose, but nothing that would have got him in trouble." The words hang on the air between us, I can almost see them, black and barbed like wire. This is what Pete really is. This is why my Dark Passenger had its hackles raised when it saw him, even at the first. He's a monster too. Su Lin must see this and she hurries on.

"He's not a whack job; at least I don't think so. He just got a little intense and Janice, well, Janice took it all a bit seriously. All the guy needed was a warning off. I coulda done that for her." She mimes a slashing movement. I snap out of my dark reveries and grin.

"Yeah, I'm sure you could. You have a hell of swing on you. Where'd you learn to use a sword?" She grins and finishes her coffee.

"My mom, she's Japanese. My dad's English though, they moved here before I was born. He's an artist and mom is a performer. She does sword shows and traditional plays and dance. All very sixties." She holds up her fingers in an ironic peace sign and grins. "So, mom taught me how to use a blade, it's part of her act. Good for frightening potential douche bag boyfriends." I chuckle and look at my watch. She checks her own; I see the enigmatic face of Hello Kitty again on the face.

"I'd better get going, listen, thanks for the talk. It was useful." I stand up and she nods, rising with me.

"No problem, Dexter, anytime. In fact, next time you fancy a coffee break, let me know ok?" She doesn't wait for me to cross back over the street with her and I watch her walk through the traffic in her alarming footwear, sober skirt and her tiny vest.

I stand for a minute in the hot sun. Closing my eyes and seeing everything, the whole world, go red. The blood is pounding in my head and my heart is beating at a strange tempo. I recognise this feeling as anger, it's how I felt when Miguel played me, how I felt when Lila tried to hurt the kids, it's how I feel right before someone dies. Pete is not in luck.

I cross the road and g straight to the SUV in the parking lot. Once inside I switch on the AC, hoping that the cool breeze will clear my head. All it does it make me see more clearly. Pete is a rapist, he hurts women and he's living in the same building as Lumen. He doesn't fit the code in anyway but last time someone threatened my family, they didn't just threaten and Rita died. I have to do something.

I start the engine, pulling out onto the street and realising somewhere inside me that I just described Lumen as family. The palms move slowly by as I cruise through the beginning of weekend traffic. People are smiling, listening to their car stereos and talking on their cell phones, making plans for the weekend with their loved ones. For a moment I let myself think about my weekend plans, Greco and DiMarco. The thought of their deaths goes some way to quenching this terrible burning inside me but the Dark Passenger wants more. He sees the threat to Lumen and he wants to strike.

I notice my knuckles are white on the steering wheel and I deliberately relax my hands and flex my fingers. I turn on the radio and skim through the channels until I find a marching band. It's months since I've listened to this station but I need to calm down. Maybe I can just warn him off? Get him to clear the fuck out and leave Lumen alone? Even as I think this I know that he won't believe that the Dexter he has met would ever be frightening enough to make him stop what he's doing.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. It's Lumen.

"Hey you!" I say, trying to damp down the anger in my voice.

"Hey Dexter, are you ok? You sound... off?" She's too quick, too tuned in to my tones and nuances. I grimace and nod.

"Yeah, I'm ok, just a tough day at work. Where are you? Do you want a ride to the apartment?"

"Sure, that'd be great. I'm not at home though, I'm at Mary's. It's two block down from the kindergarten." She reads out an address and I make a mental note.

"Ok, I'll see you there in..." I check my watch, "thirty minutes?" She thanks me and hangs up. I have thirty minutes to calm down.

The marching bands play on as I drive down the street where Mary Chester lives. At the door of the apartment building Lumen is standing with her back towards the street, her golden hair catches the light like a star, glittering and sparkling. Behind her I see a flight of stairs, someone is coming down them and Lumen turns to the SUV and smiles. Only, it's not Lumen, it's another girl. Blonde and fair skinned like Lumen but her features are sharper, more pointed and her smile is crooked and there is a long purple bruised around her throat. She is Mary Chester.

I am struck by the likeness, from behind they could be the same girl, even I mistook Mary for Lumen and I know her so well, her posture, her gait. Now Lumen stands beside her and I can see that Mary is shorter, slightly thinner than Lumen but I was fooled for a moment. Something begins to prickle in the back of my head.

"If you mistook them for each other then maybe Pete did too?" Harry sounds quiet from the back seat of the SUV. I glance in the rear view mirror and he looks serious, he's wearing his uniform, the modern one he wore before his illness forced him to quit working. There he is, Detective Harry Morgan, telling me out loud what my subconscious is afraid to let me think. And of course he's right. Ever since he died, Harry is usually right. I nod my mouth tight and I feel my jaw clench.

"What are you going to do, Dex?" Lumen and Mary are hugging each other, Lumen watching her friend go back into the building, looking up and down the street in a manner that tells me she's still wary of the world. I shake my head, feeling my hands clench the wheel again, feeling the restriction of blood making my hands tingle. It's too easy to imagine they are itching to wrap themselves around Pete's throat.

Lumen gets into the car beside me and looks at me for a long time before she speaks.

"What's wrong? Tell me what's wrong." Her voice is soft and she puts out her hand and covers my white knuckles with her soft fingers. I don't look at her; I don't know what I should say.

"Work, it's work," I tell her, looking over at her, seeing her register the lie and I try to tell her with my eyes to let it be, let me have this secret. She blinks and I know she understands. She pushes her hand through my hair and leans over and puts her head against mine. It's like she's joined to me, mind to mind.

"It's ok babe," she tells me, still rubbing her fingers though my hair, "it's the weekend, we're going to have a good weekend." I look up at her, through the blood pounding and the red light seeping through everything and she is smiling. She kisses me softly.

**Ok, I know I've slowed right down but work has been hectic and life even worse. I will get round to finishing and still have three chapters in hand but I don't want to put them all up and then have a big gap while I finish. Thanks for your patience with this. Thanks to Staceuo for being a birthday twin star and to the gorgeous, talented, clever VB for beta and excellent friendness!**


	28. Preparation

"Don't be so distracted, Dexter, you need to focus on tonight's kill." Harry sounds terse, like he used to in the old days when I was a teenager and killing was an apprenticeship. I glance over at where he sits on the armchair, watching me tie my shoes laces and pack my duffle bag with plastic wrap.

The kids are at Deb's and the apartment sounds utterly empty but for the small noises of Lumen changing in the bedroom. Instinctively, we broke apart to prepare for tonight, as though our monsters needed to give each other space, room to breathe. Lumen has already packed her small bag, carrying the less bulky but essential items we'll need for tonight and leaving me to wrap the chainsaw and the face guards we'll both need, in my bag. The generous black folds of material hide a multitude of sins.

"I know, I know I need to focus but..." I shake my head and Harry's eyes squint.

"You can deal with Pete after tonight. Have you got a plan?" He leans back and surveys me over his folded arms. I shake my head, wrapping the electric cable for the chainsaw around my hand and elbow and tucking it neatly inside the bag. I add two more disposable aprons, just to be careful, and zip it up. "If you have a plan, then you might feel better." Harry's right, again, I sigh.

Lumen comes into the room, dressed in her kill suit of soft black material. Her silhouette is perfect, slim and athletic, ready for action. My blood starts to pound in my body and somewhere I register how much seeing her like this turns me on.

She must feel the same because she walks across the room and stands in front of me, her hands in my hair and she pulls my face against her stomach. My hands come up, under the black t shirt and the electric shock as they find her skin trembles though me. She exhales and I feel her shiver. I wriggle the material past my cheek and press my lips to the smooth curve of her belly.

"Ok, that's enough; we'll never get out of here if you carry on with that." She is smiling and I can hear it in her voice. I chuckle and she giggles as my breath brushes her skin. She steps back and looks at the bag. "Do we have everything?"

I go through the mental list I have eternally stored inside me. Tonight's kill room is the double garage of Greco's neighbour and I have the measurements and the calculated amount of plastic wrap we'll need all worked out. There's a work bench and a counter top so we'll have somewhere to work on the both of them. I have double the amount of garbage bags and the chainsaw, aprons and face guards make up the rest of the equipment. Lumen has the slides and the M99.

"Yep, we've got what we need. Are you ready?" She stretches her arms and makes a noise like an athlete about to start a race; her breath comes out in a groan. She nods.

There isn't the silence between us I had anticipated as we drive back to that bad part of town where we know we'll find our new playmates. Instead our conversation is domestic, normal.

"So, did you hear from Deb again after she went to interview the relatives of those men?" Lumen is looking out of the window where the bright lights reflect on the water of the bay.

"Only briefly, she said that she got nothing from them, only she didn't phrase it quite like that." I laugh and Lumen chuckles. "Hey, are we going to go out with Deb and Quinn tomorrow? We've been invited to do lunch again at the Grill, seems like a regular thing." She doesn't reply so I glance over and she's pursing her lips and frowning.

"What's wrong?" I try to sound casual but every subtle trace of difference in her makes me worry, worry about Pete, about his intentions and his secret I am keeping from her.

"Nothing, I just promised Pete we could watch a movie tomorrow evening. His apartment is having the AC fixed and the workman's coming at noon, his apartment won't be cool enough so I said use mine. I suppose I could postpone it to the evening. Do you want to come?" Quickly, I judge the situation. Why don't I just tell her what he's doing? But I don't know for sure and old habits die hard, even with Lumen. I don't trust Pete an inch on his own with her but she's not stupid and this might give me the chance to look at his apartment, find out what he's hiding because I'm damned sure it's something. When I know for certain then I'll talk to her about it, she doesn't need to be scared about a monster getting so close unless I have my facts straight. I stretch out my arm and rest it on her shoulder, she smiles.

"Maybe I will, it'll be later though because I'll have to get Harrison to bed and ask Deb if she can have them another night. I hope she doesn't mind. We're going to have to think of something if we're all going to live together." I say it without considering my words and Lumen puts her hand over mine, her fingers laced between my fingers.

"I spoke to Sonja when we picked the kids up yesterday, she's prepared to work some nights in the future, we'd have to have somewhere for her to sleep though..." I look over as the traffic slows down and Lumen is smiling at me. She isn't frightened by what I have said, about our commitment; she's contemplated it herself and taken steps to ensure our family are safe. Steps that include our extracurricular needs. What is more shocking is how this idea doesn't bother me; I can almost feel Harry's approval wafting in on the ether and the hot summer breeze through the window.

"We should start looking at apartments," I say, unable to keep the grin from my face. Lumen's face is alight; she nods as though she doesn't have the words for how she's feeling. I let out a sigh and slide the SUV forward as the lights change and continue our steady flow in the Miami night time traffic.

I watch the hookers, the clubbers, the lovers and the cops on the street. Everyone with their own focus, their agenda for the evening. Get laid, get paid, get drunk, get home unscathed. The music and the lights and the smell of Cuban cooking from the restaurants on this side of town have me smiling into the night. I never felt so at peace, even with the worry of Pete, I know I am in a privileged place. I have my woman at my side, my kids are sleeping safely, the future looks bright and I'm on my way to hack to pieces two really deserving people, how could life be better? I lean over and switch on the radio. The marching band's drum rolls us along and the streets become darker, not as flamboyant and friendly. Lumen taps her fingers on the leather upholstery of her chair in time to the music.

One by one streetlights get less bright, less frequent. Houses are empty and shops are boarded over or encased in metal bars. Shady characters lounge on the steps of houses and deals are being done from car windows and trunks.

"We should park up, we don't want anyone remembering the SUV," I say, as I pull into the kerb and switch off the head lights.

"Will it be ok here?" Lumen looks out of the window, the area is still residential but it's not the clean streets we're used to.

"Yeah, I think so; we've a few blocks to walk before things get really bad." I heft the bag onto my shoulder as I get out of the car. Lumen swings her bag up and follows me as I move off down an alleyway, locking the car behind me with a discreet click.

We've scoped out the area on a couple of maps and planned our route to the kill room. We move like shadows, neither of us needing to speak or communicate with anything but our eyes and hands. Once or twice we come across a drunk or a junkie, sprawled between trash cans and stinking of piss and vomit, but none of them offer us any threat. We're the things that go bump in the night.

The fun really starts when I jimmy back the lock on the double garage and, using the powerful torch for light, I black out the windows with the thick sheeting. Then Lumen flicks on the bright overhead lights and we look at our blank canvas. The tension between us is already building, I am anticipating her kill, imagining her slicing through sinew and tissue and bone with the chainsaw. It's not the first time I've thought of this, ever since that night when we met them at the bar the image of her, blood splatter on her pale skin, her pupils dilated and her mouth open, has been lurking in my brain. Now it emerges into the light as I watch her take the staple gun and start to clamber on the countertop to fix the plastic to the corners of the room. I feel my hard arousal at the thought of what she is going to do tonight.

We work quietly, each of us in our roles, dividing the job between us without conversation. This is how partners act, man and woman in some primal union, predators operating together. It surprises me how little time it takes us to set up the kill room.

I watch her pull the sheeting over the counter top; something in her movement reminds me of how she makes the bed. My body doesn't need any help jumping to the next step and I imagine pushing her back onto the slippery surface, showing her how crazy she's got me with her plans for Greco.

She stands beside me, breathing slightly from the exertion of hauling the plastic along the floor, over the table in the centre of the room and under our feet again. The whole garage is wrapped in its own bubble of shiny, evidence free sheeting. It obscures our vision of the edges of the room and seems to cocoon us in our own world. We are the masters here.

"It's beautiful," Lumen whispers and she is right. The light is softened by the thick swathes of plastic and the surfaces reflect dully like rippled water under moonlight. It's like a dream, or a nightmare, depending which side of the chainsaw you are on. This thought reminds me of Deb, Deb catching us as we hacked up Jordan Chase's body, firing her gun through the plastic strips and then letting us go. That day the plastic saved my life, made it so that Deb can only wonder if it was me behind that curtain of transparent disguise. It's a good metaphor for my life.

Lumen moves to unpack the photos she downloaded of little Todd , the child unfortunate enough to be born to Tina DiMarco and whose life was ended by her lowlife boyfriend. I saw Lumen's face as those little pictures were spat out of the machine. Slowly he emerged, his hair and then his scared, big eyes and finally the tiny, turned down mouth. Like a reversal of his birth he came out, upside down, wrong, and Lumen cried as we stood together and watched his stillbirth from the printer. I see her mouth; set in a line of determination, as she tapes the pictures up along the plastic walls. She pauses to stroke one, smoothing the tiny, frightened features as though she can make him better again, bring him back.

"I'll stop him for you Todd," she whispers, and I remember the ritual, the almost ceremonial way she killed Daniels, the recitation of the names of his victims, the honouring of their deaths as she brought down the knife. She is mesmerising, I am utterly captured by her poise, her dedication to this work. She pulls back her hair tightly and her t shirt lifts slightly, the tanned skin striped with scars and I look at her and I feel the monster inside of me waking.

The Miami night and the wrapping combine to make the room hot and damp; I watch a bead of sweat rolling down from under the high ponytail in which she has trapped her hair. It disappears under the collar of her t shirt and, before I can register what I am doing, I have crossed the room, plastic crinkling under my feet, and my arms are about her waist and I dip my head to follow that salty drop with my tongue. I feel her shudder under me; taste the heat and the damp of her body. She tugs at my hair with her fingers as she presses me to her skin. I am panting, washing away on this hot tide of lust which threatens to spill over me and leave me shipwrecked somewhere unknown.

I feel her ribs heaving under my hands and trace along those slim bones with my fingertips. She moans softly, the sound igniting me and acting like petrol on a flame. I slide my hands up, under her shirt and over the cups of her bra where I feel her nipples, hard and demanding. She growls in her throat and I hear my monster answer her with his own guttural, animal sound. She turns in my hands and kisses me, her hands pressing down my body, stroking and squeezing through the thin material of my dark combat trousers. The smell of her, the feeling of her slim fingers pressing, teasing, builds and builds until there is nowhere for me to go.

She pulls back and presses her nose to mine, her breath coming hard and sharp. I see her eyes closed tight and she astonishes me with the effort she summons to slow her breathing, control her body. I push forward and kiss her again; her soft lips are like burning coals.

"Stop, stop," she whispers, almost as though it is herself she is speaking to, willing herself to be calm, focus. I sweep my hands over her breasts again and she arches, almost on her toes, as her body pushes forward, offering itself to me. Her eyes snap open. "No." It is a command.

I run my hands back to her stomach and lift them away as though she were made of glass. She sways on her heels and I can see the concentration as she fights her instincts for control.

"Sorry," I say it quietly, looking at her for indication of how she is feeling. Did I overstep the mark? Is this stopping a symptom of a survivor or the instinct of a killer? I'm not sure and so I try to read her, my eyes gathering information in the same way that I read a crime scene.

She bites her lip and pulls down the hem of her shirt, the corner of her mouth hitching in a crooked smile. A breath escapes her lips which might be a laugh but I can't be sure. I smile hesitantly and she puts out her hand, palm facing me. I reach towards her with my own hand and she twines her fingers about my own. She presses her palm to mine.

"Not now, later. This is amazing, but think how it will be after..." She looks up at me, under her lashes now and smiles a dark, knowing smile.

"Delayed gratification?" I smirk, "very good. You're right, we should wait but I don't know how long I can wait when this job is over." Her eyes drop to my crotch and she quirks an eyebrow and nods.

"So I see. Don't worry; I have an idea for that too. You're not the only one who likes to plan ahead." She turns and begins to unpack my bag. I watch her connect the power cable and then put down the chainsaw on the long countertop. There's more than enough room for Tina DiMarco on that surface and the chainsaw leaves at least enough room for another body if we had another body. She tries on the face guard, gliding the plastic band over her shiny hair and tightening the slide fastener.

She turns and grins at me from under the visor, her features still sharp in the glare of the high beam light overhead. She adjusts the side clasps so that the curve of the clear screen angles down, away from her nose, giving her room to breathe. Then she picks up the chainsaw, I see her muscles flex as they correct her posture with the weight of the heavy power tool. Maybe I should get her something lighter? The image of her with the fearsome saw, her stance, legs apart, knees and shoulders perfectly balanced, is shocking, powerfully erotic. She brings it down, slicing in the air at an imaginary limb, gauging its weight and the effort needed to keep the swing smooth.

"Have you used one of those before?" She looks too comfortable, too controlled for this to be a first time.

"Yes," she nods, bringing the saw up and resting her hand on her shoulder so the weight of the machine rests against her body. "My father and brother used one like this to cut down trees in the garden. They taught me how to use one, it was a little smaller than this, but the principle's the same. I'm guessing it won't get stuck in bone the way it would in a tree trunk?"

"No, you're right. It should slice cleanly through. You won't be ready for the blood though. Something like this creates a lot of blood, everywhere." I try not to think of that shipping container, of that little boy sitting in a pool of his mother's cooling blood. Lumen sees this, her face registers her recognition of my flashback and she puts the chainsaw down carefully and comes to me, hand outstretched. She strokes my face.

"This isn't just for Todd DiMarco. This is for you, and for Rudy."

Ok, sorry for the looooong delay! My life has got slightly inovolved and I just haven't had the patience. Hopefully the train journey to London will inspire me to get this finished! Thanks to VB for betastardom and to staceuo for being a wicked critic. 


	29. Justice

It was almost too easy to get them here. We watched them get in from the bar, DiMarco so drunk she could hardly make the steps to the building. Greco laughing at her stumbling, making no attempt to help her out as she crashed against the brightly painted plaster that was peeling with age and neglect.

First Lumen, crouched in the darkness of the bathroom, injects Tina with the M99. It's her choice to wait for the woman in the salmon pink tiled room; she knows it would be the first place she would go when she got home. She gently folds the sagging body to the floor and waits for me.

Greco's slumped in the armchair, manoeuvring the remote control within reach with his foot. It's child's play to sneak up behind him and plunge the needle into his neck. I lift him into my arms and carry him out back, into the darkness from which he will never return. Once he's on the table, stripped and secured in clear wrap, I go back for Tina.

Lumen gets to work without speaking, the plastic wrap taut in her hands and her face in grim concentration. She undresses DiMarco efficiently, like a nurse. Without a pause she passes the roll under the table and back. Again and again she cocoons the skinny woman in her transparent shroud. When she looks up at me her eyes are alight with a sort of ferocious energy. She grins, her teeth sharp and white in the glare of the bright over head lights.

"What do we do now?" Her voice is laced with menace. The combination of the approaching kill and her presence is a heady cocktail. My blood is racing again, heart hammering to keep up with the demands of adrenaline and arousal.

"Make sure we're ready for them." I drag my eyes from her curves, the black material of her kill outfit making her seem supernaturally present in the glimmer of the plastic, and focus on checking that the cord for the chainsaw is not hampered by the position of the table.

"You know it isn't Dexter, you've done this hundreds of times. Why are you checking now?" Harry follows my gaze to where Lumen is standing, looking down at Greco with her head cocked on one side like a lioness regarding a fallen gazelle. He nods at me, biting his lip. Even Harry can see how she affects me.

I am acutely aware of her as we move about the room, tucking in plastic, smoothing out sheeting. It's as though my senses have been rubbed raw, every one of them screams her name. Without looking I can feel how her breathing disturbs the air around me, the heat of the room making it hard to think of anything but her.

There's no reason to wait. We both know that we are prepared, focussed and sharp. She passes me the capsule that will wake Greco, I snap it under his nose and he starts awake with a grunt, the chemicals clearing his brain of the fog of drink and the sedative.

"Where...?" He doesn't finish the word before he arches up, straining at the plastic. His bindings hold him firm, squeaking as his sweaty skin wriggles in its embrace.

"Hello." Lumen's voice is quiet, controlled, it makes my blood boil. His eyes flick to hers, wide, so wide I can see the whites of his sickly eyes.

"You... what the fuck?" She holds out her hand for the gauze, I pass it to her and she stuffs his mouth. He gags and her lips pull back over her teeth in a frightening smile. She flicks her gaze to me and I swallow. She is so dangerously beautiful.

"Shhhh." Her face is close to his, so close she could kiss him. I watch her lick her lips. Unconsciously I run my tongue over my own and imagine pressing them against her mouth; they will be hot and wet. I lean back, hands propping me against the metal countertop. "We're going to kill your girlfriend." Lumen grins viciously as Greco bucks in the binding plastic. She looks up at me and her smile becomes amused at his antics, as though we are watching one of those shows where stupid people do stupid things on video camera. I smile back, she arches an eyebrow and the look is like ice through me.

"Oh don't worry, you won't have too long to deal with the horrible images." I bend over his body, muffled cries coming from the gauze and his breath heaving his ribs up against the sheeting. "Because we're going to kill you right after her." He goes still and Lumen laughs. She trails a finger down his body, a frightening parody of eroticism, the gesture teasing, like foreplay. Greco goes bone still; his eyes are still wide and scared. Lumen whirls around, positioning her body so he can see the prone form of his girlfriend. He moans.

I am at Tina DiMarco's side, the vial of ammonia in my hand. One snap and she is wide awake, her eyelids flicker and then snap open. She takes in her surroundings in an instant.

"Jason?" Her voice is mumbled but she sounds surprised. I screw up my face and shake my head.

"Nope, sorry Miss," I drawl, in Jason's loser twang. Tina's eyes narrow warily. She hears the muffled noise of Greco on the bench and her eyes swivel to him, widening in alarm as she sees where he is and what we have done.

"What? What are you doing?" Her voice rises two octaves.

"We're avenging your son. We can't undo what you did but we can make sure you never do it again." Lumen points to the sad pictures of Todd DiMarco above Tina's head. Tina makes a gulping sob.

"Oh god, oh god. I never meant to... I was scared... of him..." She flicks her eyes to Greco and he makes a strangled noise. I realise he is laughing. He tries to speak. Lumen reaches over and removes the gauze from his lips.

"Scared, honey? Of me? No, no, you begged me to get rid of the little bastard..." Lumen's heard enough. She reaches for the chainsaw, switching it on briefly and revving it with a terrifying noise and then passing it to me. A trickle of yellow fluid drips from under Tina DiMarco's plastic sheeting. This evidence of her fear rolls away, as though it's trying to escape this situation.

"You can't do this! You're a monster!" DiMarco begins to shout and Greco opens his mouth to join her, clearly thinking to attract outside attention but Lumen stuffs the gauze brutally back into his mouth. I bend to Tina DiMarco, her eyes rolling wildly in her head. Her limbs flap against her confines.

"You murdered your son, as clearly as if you'd beaten him to death yourself." My voice is calm, the ecstasy of peace falls over me as I relish the moments before the chainsaw comes down.

"You were his mother; you were supposed to protect him. You don't deserve to live." Lumen hisses this through her teeth, her voice is passionate and yet cold. It thrills through me. The scalpel is in her hand and it flashes across Tina DiMarco's cheek, leaving a slim trail of blood in its wake. I take the pipette and drop the blood onto the slide. I squeeze it shut, the drop blossoms out.

I rev the chainsaw and Tina DiMarco starts to cry. Lumen gags her mouth and I bring the jagged teeth of the power tool down and watch as it slices effortlessly through her captured limbs. The sound of crunching bone, severing flesh and the fantastic crimson spray of blood is like a new baptism. I glance to Lumen, her mask is over her face and through the red, red spatter of Tina DiMarco's life I see her fierce grin.

It doesn't take me long to finish with Tina, murder becomes disposal as her body is destroyed by the chainsaw. There is a thudding noise behind me and I turn in my work to see Lumen staring down at Greco, his feet banging in vain against the bench. He is making strange whining noises.

"Is this how Todd sounded when you beat him to death?" Her voice is a razor blade in his ear. He flinches from her. "You're the monster here. We're just cleaning up the mess." He closes his eyes and her fingers flash out, prising his eyelids open, pressing painfully into his skin.

"Oh no, you get to watch. You don't deserve any fucking mercy." I step back like a magician to reveal the neat but bloody packages which are what's left of Tina DiMarco.

"Your turn now, I tell him, flicking my eyes to Lumen who is standing there, blood flecking her skin and the plastic apron which moulds to her breasts and belly. She makes my heart beat faster, this tension is almost painful.

Greco twists painfully like a caterpillar that can't quite turn into a butterfly. His cocoon holds him still for his final transformation. He moans and his eyes roll back in his head as the image of the piles of flesh that were his girlfriend becomes too much for him. Lumen laughs, the sound like crystal shattering in the muffled atmosphere of the kill room. She smiles at me and crosses to where I stand, chainsaw silent now, dangling from my hand. She lifts her visor and her face is startlingly clean, only a line of blood which has escaped the protective plastic curves along her jawbone.

Her hands reach up and she moves the blood spattered screen from my face too. Her fingers curl in the back of my hair and she pulls me down to kiss me. Her lips are searing hot and she opens her mouth and sucks at my tongue. A bolt of desire goes through me. I drop the chainsaw, not hard but it clatters with a sound that seems indecent. I push her back against the bench where Greco lies moaning, still twitching in his plastic wrap. She grinds her hips against my crotch, I growl into her mouth and she pulls back her head and sighs.

My gloved hands are on the plastic covering of her breasts and even through the protective layer I feel her nipples, hard and wanting. Her arousal finds its echo in my body and her fingers trail down my side and slide between us. She moans when she closes her fingers around my hard cock. I put back my head and pant her name. She presses her mouth to my neck and licks and sucks a line down to my collar bone. I don't know if there's blood there and the grotesque thrill of not knowing sends a shiver through me.

She is stroking, teasing, squeezing and I'm not going to be able to hold out much longer. All I can think is how hot she will be when I am inside her, how tight and that terrible, wonderful feeling of possession, of being owned body and soul.

Greco makes a muffled scream and Lumen stops, resting her head against mine like she did before, panting and smiling to herself. I open my eyes and look right into to that dark stare. She is grinning now.

"Oh, we forgot someone." She pushes back against my shoulders, bucking her hips against me one last time as she propels us away from the table. I pick up the chainsaw and hand it to her like she's in a ceremony. She bows her head in thanks.

"Srry Joe, got a little carried away there," I say jovially, smiling down at him as I flip the visor down and see out of the corner of my eye, Lumen wiping her face with a paper towel. Somewhere inside me registers that she licked the blood from my neck and the thought fascinates and repels me equally. Then I look back at Greco, his sick yellow face and writhing eyes and I forget everything else.

I can see Lumen is eager to start so I make quick work of the blood slide, nicking him and dragging the sharp edge down his cheek. He winces but he's too busy crying to protest.

"Don't be such a baby." Lumen hisses at him, venomous and sinister. "Crying all the fucking time." She spits the words at him, I realise that this is what he told me about Todd, how he was a pain in the ass. She uses his own words against him. She's like some poetic avenging angel. Greco tries to calm down; I can see him trying to think his way out of this. Lumen frowns, cocks her head and then removes the gauze from his mouth.

"Look, you're a woman, you won't kill me. It was an accident, what happened to Todd. I miss the boy, really I do." He squeezes every last drop of pleading, of appeal for sympathy into his voice. Lumen's lip curls. She turns to me.

"Will he be heard if he screams?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. I shake my head; in this neighbourhood screaming won't attract any attention. She turns back to Greco. "So, scream. Scream like that poor child did as you beat him to death, when you burned him with your lighter, when you smashed his head against the wall." Greco opens his mouth, takes a deep breath, he's going to shout for his life. Lumen puts her face close to his; he lunges up at her, teeth snapping primal desperation.

"And I will afford you the exact same mercy you gave to Todd." She steps back and revs the chainsaw. Greco starts to scream and Lumen slams down the visor and grins as she cuts off first one arm and then the other.

I don't know how long he carried on screaming. Lumen sliced his legs away from his torso with six strokes, almost reminding me of Bryan with the precision of her cutting. Soon he is a mess of sinew, blood and bone. The screaming becomes a gurgle, his body unable to cope with the pain and he passes out, bubbling red at the mouth. She finishes him off and stands, her chest heaving under the bright lights, her apron slicked crimson.

When she turns to me there is still something of the predator in her expression. She throws the face mask to the ground and grabs the visor of my own and wrenches it free, snagging my hair in the tight band around the back of my head. One by one she peels the gloves from her fingers and throws them into the holdall. She is pressed against me and her heat conveys itself to my flesh in an instant. I bring my arms down her back and grab her buttocks. She allows me to lift her, wrapping her legs about me and pushing herself against me. I stagger back, meeting resistance when I meet the section of bench left clear. She grins and kisses me as I turn and place her on the plastic.

Quickly she scrambles up and removes her apron, her t shirt. Vaguely I worry about the evidence but the thought is soon gone when she reaches for her trousers. We'll have to clean up naked and bag everything in the room.

She lies back on the plastic, open and eager. A bride of Frankenstein, demon lover. I take off my clothes, savouring the way her skin is sheened with sweat and slightly pink from the contact with the blood on her clothes. Gloves, apron, t shirt, trousers until I am naked. As I lie over her I realise the irony of the situation. There have been four naked lovers lying on our plastic tonight; only two will leave this place.

She reaches down, hissing as her hands touch my hard cock. I moan, supported on my hands above her, my body taut and desperate. With one hand on the back on my neck and one between my legs she guides me to her. As I enter her she rolls her eyes, panting her breath in short bursts as though the feeling is too intense. How much she wants me is like electricity over my skin.

I groan as, inch by inch, she pulls me forward, biting her lip and growling in her throat. She is all the things I remember, fiercely tight, pressing against every inch of me with a thrilling pressure, hot and demanding. Her hips buck and I slide all the way in. I want to lie still, relish this feeling, this union but she won't let me. She brings up her feet and uses them to spur me on, pressing her heels into my buttocks as she lifts her hips. My body needs no more encouragement.

Slowly at first and then building in speed and determination we move together. I can feel the tightening in my belly and I lean back so that I can touch her with my hands, her legs still about me as I knead and pinch first one nipple then the other. I hold still for a moment while I smooth the other hand down her stomach, resting between her legs, my thumb circling her clitoris. She growls, arching back and clutching the sides of the bench.

I thrust, stifled gasps from her open mouth echoed by my growls as each movement takes us nearer. The edge rears before us, bright and sharp like a knife and we throw ourselves against it and fall together.

The cleanup is meticulous. We fold the kill room from the outside in, dragging the garbage bags with what remains of Greco and DiMarco into the yard and using the cold hose to clean ourselves, the refreshing iciness of the water is a tonic after the heat of the plastic. I put on the spare clothes I have brought and jog to fetch the car. I park it round the back of the neighbour's empty house and we neatly pack the trunk, the plastic serving as a buffer for the bags of dead meat.

We drive carefully out of the neighbourhood, no point getting stopped now. Lumen, her wet hair glittering in the street lights which are brighter as we leave the dark houses and shifty deals, puts her hand on my knee and turns on the radio. The marching band sends us cheerily on our way; she taps her finger to the drum beat.


	30. A twist

I'm bringing the boat onto the quayside when my cell phone rings. It's Deb and I show the screen to Lumen before I answer.

"Dexter," Deb sounds out of breath but elated. "Can you get to Palmer Lake?" I frown, it'll take a while but there'll be no traffic at this time of night.

"Sure, what is it? A crime scene?" Lumen raises her eyebrows as she takes the wheel and steers us in, jumping ashore and tying us off.

"Yeah, another motherfucking vampire beheading adventure! But the kicker is that we've got a suspect."

"Really? You caught someone at the scene?" This never happens, unless it's a domestic case, catching the killer usually means a man hunt.

"You bet we caught someone. LaGuerta's interviewing the bitch now. I can't get hold of Masuka to ID her, is he with you?"

"No," I say quickly, alarmed that she thinks I might be hanging out with Masuka. She chuckles.

"Just fucking with ya, bro. So, get your ass here, ok? You're going to want to see this." Before I can ask her anything she hang up, I look at Lumen who is taking our bags from the boat and unlocking the SUV. She looks over her shoulder.

"Have you got to go?" she asks, tossing me the keys. I nod and she smiles ruefully. "Can you drop me back at the apartment?" I don't want her going back to her place until I've had chance to find out if my suspicions about Pete are founded in truth.

"Sure, wait for me in bed? I'll be home as soon as I can." I kiss her and she runs her fingers through my hair.

I watch Lumen walk all the way to the apartment steps. I know she's not defenceless but I watch her anyway, unable to drive away until I see her vanish into the darkness of the staircase. Then I turn the car and head out to Palmer Lake to find Deb and her new headless body.

I was right; the drive across town is quicker and quieter than usual. Even though it's the weekend only some areas of this vibrant city are still awake at this time in the morning. The sky is that beautiful blue which means it's going to be sunrise soon. As I near Palmer Lake the crazy kaleidoscope of red and blue flashes over the buildings and the trees, cop cars seal off the area. I show my laminate to some uniform that I vaguely recognise from the station and he waves me through.

I see Deb, Angel and Quinn standing together all looking down at the ground. Deb is holding a flashlight and she shines it up at me as I cross the dry path to them.

"What've we got?" I ask, as she sweeps the light in a broad arc back to the dark shape on the floor between them. It is a body, its head is missing and then I follow the beam of the light and see the head, a black ball, a few feet away, like an abandoned soccer ball. I hoist my bag from my shoulder and get out the camera.

Deb and the others step back as I begin flashing off shots, one after another in quick succession. The flash is like lightening and each one reveals a grisly secret. Another Asian man, another headless Asian man. I stop photographing and look up to Angel. His lips are pursed, his face seems pale in the white light.

"Has he got a tattoo?" He nods slowly. Quinn steps forward, taking the light from Deb and shining it so I can see under the man's twisted wrist.

"Same as the one which Vince has, top hat and feather or whatever the fuck it is." He shakes his head. The atmosphere is tense and then Deb speaks and I realise why they're all so pissed.

"The chief's talking about getting the Feds down here if it turns out we have a fucking serial killer on our hands again. Shit." She kicks a stone and no one tells her that she just damaged the crime scene, not even me. I must be learning tact. Astonishing.

"_Another_ fucking serial killer," Quinn amends, sounding disgusted. "How many fucking whack jobs can one city have for the love of Christ?" His New York accent seems more pronounced when he's annoyed. Angel wipes his hand over his face, he looks tired.

"Where's Masuka? Does anyone know where the fuck Masuka is?" He sighs this, his tone weary. I realise that Angel must have thought that this body was Vince. He looks at me, dark circles under his usually sparkling eyes. I shake my head. "Ok, Dexter, amigo. Do your thing, see what we have. It seems the blood is washing away again, this part of the lake is fed by a stream which only flows once the fish farm upstream opens its sluice gates at six am." He checks his watch. "That's in twenty minutes so..." He waves his hand, indicating I should perform some kind of magic. I nod and start to kneel to unpack my bag.

It's the same M.O. as before. I recognise the wazikashi handiwork and the way the body has been positioned so that the blood flows away from the torso, assisted by the still pumping heart. The man is the sameage, race and height as the other victims, the same as Vince Masuka. There's not much else to see but then, as I begin to kneel to photograph the severed sinews of the neck, I see the silver cross lying just under the victim's shoulder.

"Can someone..?" I gesture to a lab geek nearby who passes me his biro pen and I unhook the cross and chain from under the corpse. It catches the light as it spins, dropping into the evidence bag and surprising me with its weight. It's the same as Deb's, the same as the one at the beach.

Quinn sees me standing up and wanders over.

"That another cross?" I nod and he nods too. He waves with his arm towards the incident truck which is like an illuminated cube in the burgeoning light. I can see LaGuerta stepping down from the brightness inside and crossing to us. "The Lieutenant wants you to go over there and take samples from the suspect." LaGuerta stops and squints into the darkness, obviously looking for me. I wave and she waves back, her gesture going from a welcome to a summons. I shrug at Quinn and jog over to where LaGuerta is standing, holding her hair back from her face as a breeze curls up around us.

"Dexter, hi, I want you to take some samples from the girl we found fleeing the scene. She's in there." I nod and begin to take the steps to the truck. My cell phone vibrates and it's a call from Lumen. I'm about to pick up and then it goes dead. I put the phone back in my pocket, hoping I can wrap up here and get home to her before it's fully sun up.

Inside the incident truck it's bright and hard. A girl sits, handcuffed to the cheap metal table and she's nursing a plastic cup from which comes the aroma of 'on the go' coffee. Her hair is the same severe, sharp bob that Vince described and the blue black is shot with vivid pink. She looks up at me and, for a moment, I think she's been crying but then I realise it's her smudgy black eyeliner which makes her seem so mournful. There's nothing in her expression that shows remorse. The magenta slashed lips are a sneer; perfectly manicured brows are arched in a questioning look.

She's wearing a toned down version of the 'Lolita' outfit Deb showed us back at the station. A grey pinstriped pinafore which stops above her knee and is flared out with a petticoat the same colour as her hair and lipstick. Red and white socks come up over her knees and end in tidy bows. The red stands out against the coordination of her clothes, the crimson clashing with the pink but then I see that this is not by design, this is blood. The recognition of this fact makes me see that the swirls on her bare arms are not all tattoos. The red, turning brown, of blood is smeared over her hands. There's even a drop on her cheek, round, like a beauty spot.

"What the fuck are you staring at geek?" Her voice is harsh but pitched like a young girl. The tone and the foul language seeming to jar with her image. She looks about thirteen but I know she can't be.

"I need to take a sample of that blood. Can you lift your arm please?" my voice is neutral, non threatening and she twists her lip and raises her hand in the air. I note the spatter pattern on her arm; flash a shot for my records and turn.

"Hey! I thought you wanted to take a sample?" I turn back briefly.

"I've seen enough." I leave her frowning and go out into the pale dawn light and see LaGuerta push herself up from the bonnet of the car where she is leaning and cross to me.

"Dex? You weren't in there very long?" she frowns, her dark brows almost meeting in the middle.

"She's not the killer." I just state the facts; I don't play it out like Vince, toying with my information, playing the audience for admiration. I just don't see the point and I want to go home.

"She's not? What makes you say that?" LaGuerta sips her coffee and looks at me over the rim. Deb comes over and Angel steps out of the shadows and hands me a coffee.

"Thanks," I tell him and turn back to his wife who is waiting for my answer with a frustrated look on her face. "The blood pattern on her arms isn't consistent with a stabbing, or a slicing." Angel shakes his head and Deb sighs. I take some photos from my bag and pass them around.

They look at the pictures of Su Lin's naked arms, the spatter of the corn syrup mixture is clean and precise, not the smeary mess on the suspect's skin. Even if it's been a few hours this pattern would still be visible.

"So, who the fuck is she and how is she covered in some dead guy's blood?" Deb asks the question we all want to ask. LaGuerta sighs and shakes her head.

"I suppose we'd better find out. Angel?" she says his name with the soft 'g' and he nods and follows her into the truck.

"Are you done?" Deb looks at me and pats me on the arm. I think and then I nod. "Get back home then, we might have a busy weekend ahead if that girl tells us anything." I smile, acknowledging her thinking about me and she hugs me briefly.

As I drive back through the city streets I wonder who is this mysterious girl, covered in blood. I half expected to see Su Lin when I walked up into the truck. My gut instinct told me that she wasn't a killer and I'm rarely wrong but there is something odd about her and I don't know what it is.

I turn off the radio and wind down the windows, savouring the warm breeze which blows in off the sea. The sky is a fiery pink and orange and the light makes the windows of the buildings look like the city is ablaze. I remember the old saying about mornings like this, 'sailor's warning'. I can't remember where I heard the phrase but I always remembered it, maybe because I have a boat.

In the gaps between the high office buildings and stores I can see thin, wispy clouds each of them disappearing as the sun's heat rises and begins to burn them off. It's going to be another glorious, hot Miami day. I take one hand off the wheel cautiously and stretch. I think about how great life is.

I feel refreshed from the killing of Greco and DiMarco, even though I haven't slept tonight I know that this clean, electric buzz will help me ride through until the evening. If the station doesn't call I plan to take Lumen to the beach, maybe even get something to eat at one of the beachside cafes.

I pull into the parking lot and check the trunk again for anything we have forgotten. Briefly it occurs to me that I have spent half the night committing a national felony and half the night aiding the officers of the law at a murder scene. It says something about me and my level of adjustment that the thought has only just occurred to me that these two occupations are at significant odds with each other.

The lights are off at the apartment and I reach into my pocket for my key before I see that the door is ajar anyway. Instantly I know something is wrong. I lean back against the wall and still my breathing, slow my heart rate from the frantic hammering it became when it realised that someone had broken into the apartment.

I nudge the door wider with my foot. There's no noise from within, no gunshot, no one rushing me in an ambush. I let out a low breath and stand in the doorway, the interior gloomy and contrasted by the bright light of the rising sun outside the windows. The blinds slice the room into slivers but there is no one here.

I move quickly, silently, to the bedroom. The bed is a mess, sheets and pillows strewn about as though someone has been thrashing about, twisted sheets are a sick echo of limbs as they lie, sating their shadows across themselves.

No Lumen. Where is she?

The bathroom is empty and I walk into the kitchen, mind racing to interpret the scene and that's when I see the note. It's on the door of the fridge, where I left Bryan's Barbie head. The plain piece of paper has caught the morning sunlight and is cast a pale pink, like a love letter. But it isn't. It reads

'Dexter, have gone back to my apartment. I need some time to think. Please don't contact me, Elle.' I stare at it for a long moment. Fear and anguish crush myyy ribs with their black weight until my brain catches up. Elle? Why would she sign this note 'Elle'? Everything catches up.

It's Pete. He's been here, drugged her or forced her into leaving with him. The note's supposed to put me off the scent, make me think she just left, was having doubts about our relationship, but Lumen's cleverer than that. She's left me incontrovertible evidence that this is a kidnap.

The world stops spinning while I think. I can hear my breathing, calm, ordered; hear the gulls outside and the traffic and the kids playing in the park down the block. Not again. Not again.

My hands don't even shake as I take out my phone and dial Deb's number.

"Dex? You ok?" I nod and then realise she can't see me.

"Yeah, I need a favour." My voice sounds flat to me but she doesn't seem to notice.

"Ok, what? The kids? Because I gotta tell you it looks like I might be needed here bro."

"No, not that. A friend of mine's had his car stolen by his teenage son. It's pretty unique and it should be recognisable, could you put out a notice to look for it?"

"Why doesn't he call the cops in? This isn't a homicide Dex." She sounds tired.

"I know, but the son's only a kid and," I put a note of my desperation into my voice, the desperation I really feel. "I said I'd try to help and he doesn't want the boy charged, you know? It's a 1955 Ford Zephyr." She sighs and I can imagine her pushing back her hair with her hands.

"Yeah, ok, Dex. But..."

I pause, have I said something wrong? Given away my anxiety because now I'm used to letting things show?

"Deb?"

"You have friends Dex? Since when?" Deb laughs, sounding tired still but at least something can break through the fog of fatigue and amuse her. I laugh, give her the details and hang up.

I make a cup of coffee and stand out on the balcony. This morning I'll check out his apartment, see if he's left me anything which might indicate where he is, where he's taken her. Abduction is a much bigger thing than the 'smash and grab' style rape he perpetrated on Mary Chester.

"This is escalation, Dex." Harry leans beside me on the rail. I glance sideways at him and my fingers grip the cup. I nod, a sharp, fierce movement. "You have to find him. You know what the next step for him will be don't you? If she's seen his face or heard his voice?" I nod again, shut up Harry, shut up.

"Why does this keep happening?" I spit the words over my teeth. Harry shakes his head and sighs.

"It's the risks of life, Dex. Look at me, your biological mom died, your foster mom died. I was left all alone." I look at him, seeing instead the sun rising, angry and red behind his head, casting him in some bloody silhouette.


End file.
